Tis the Season
by Reynsi
Summary: Set in December 2014, this story is an advent calendar, with one installment posted every day leading up to Christmas. It builds on what we know will happen to John Paul McQueen in the coming months.
1. Chapter 1

This is the first of what I hope will be 25 daily installments leading up to Christmas. Hope you enjoy!

**1 December 2014**

The winter darkness almost felt solid as John Paul forced himself out of bed this Monday morning. The house was totally silent and nothing could be heard from the street. It was as if he was totally alone in the world.

He liked that feeling.

The reality was very different. He was living in a crowded house, with countless McQueens, spouses, boyfriends and girlfriends, and he'd grown to appreciate those few minutes of complete solitude, where he could brush his teeth, shower, shave, have his coffee, and gather the strength needed to face the world. The strength needed to convince his worried family, friends and colleagues that things were getting better.

As he entered the hallway he could hear various volumes of snores coming from the other bedrooms and the dread kicked in, and he started wondering if everyone wouldn't be better off if he'd just left.

He knew that Matthew would be loved and raised by his adoring aunts and wouldn't have to watch his dad in the state that he'd been ever since he was raped almost a year ago. No, John Paul knew that Matthew saw right through his pretense. He could feel it every time he'd leave for work in the morning and come home in the evening, not wanting to let go. Not that Matthew knew what had happened, of course, but the little guy had obviously sensed that something was wrong ever since John Paul came home after that horrible experience. John Paul realised that Matthew would never get over losing his father like that, so every morning he made the same choice, to leave his passport in the drawer, and just face the world and go to work.

He hadn't yet reached that decision this first morning of December when he came downstairs and noticed that someone had forgotten to unplug the Christmas lights in the living-room window. Although irritated by the carelessness the multicoloured lights cheered him up all the same, and he found himself whistling _Jingle Bells_ as he started making his pot of coffee after having plugged in the identical light series in the kitchen window.

A few minutes later he sat down at the kitchen table with his coffee mug. Smiling wistfully at the seasonal lights he automatically reached for his briefcase where he kept his antidepressants. He took one pill and drank his coffee in silence as he thought about his life, the lightness he'd felt earlier gradually fading away.

The McQueen household was still quiet when he finished his coffee, rinsed the mug under the tap, grabbed his suitcase and headed out of the house.

Just as he was about to close the door behind him a picture of his passport in the drawer flashed through his head. He hesitated for a slight moment before pulling the door shut.

"Craig, wake up! Our taxi's coming on twenty minutes!"

It was the third time Siobhan tried to wake up her boyfriend this morning. She didn't understand why he was being so difficult. It wasn't as if it was that early, and besides, he was always the first one out of the bed when they had to get up for work.

"Craig, I mean it. You don't want to let the guy wait."

She'd already showered and finished the left of her packing and knew that it wouldn't take Craig long to get ready. If only he'd get out of bed.

What she didn't know was that he wasn't really asleep. As he pretended to be dead to her, a battle was going on in his mind. A forceful part of him was fighting valiantly to remain in bed as long as it took for them to miss the taxi and consequently the flight home to England. He knew that the more honourable side of him would win, however, as he wouldn't want to explain to either his girlfriend or indeed his mum why they missed the flight.

As Siobhan started pushing him towards the edge of the bed he knew the battle was over and threw in the towel, opening his eyes, forcing a loving smile as he reached out for her and pulled her towards him for a quick kiss.

"Good morning, princess, sorry about that. I'll just jump in the shower and freshen up and then we're out of the door."

Once in the bathroom he opened the tap and waited for the water heat to adjust. By habit he turned his face towards the mirror. The expression that met him betrayed his innermost feelings. Dread and sadness. The tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped into the bathtub, but were swiftly washed away by the water. A few new ones joined the mix, but by the time he'd finished washing himself, they'd dried up.

He used the few minutes it took to brush his teeth and put on his moisturiser, deodorant and after shave to practice his most convincing smile.

He was ready by the time the taxi stopped outside their house.


	2. Chapter 2

**2 December 2014**

"I can't believe that you're sitting at our breakfast table! You can't believe how happy I am that you're here … and you too, Craig!" Frankie joked as she beamed at her son and his girlfriend. "It's been so exciting to finally see you, luv! I hope you slept well!"

"Yes, of course. I'm just thrilled to be here, to see Craig's old home, meet his family and I can't wait to meet his old friends." Siobhan gushed, ignorant to the feeling of barely concealed embarrassment felt by most of the people present in the Osbourne kitchen. "Where are you gonna take me today, Craig?"

Her boyfriend was taken aback by the question, as he'd been struggling to find ways do the exact opposite of what she was requesting. He was definitely not ready to venture outside where there was a real risk of running into the reason why he hadn't taken his girlfriend of twenty months to see his family.

"I was thinking…" he hesitated for a short moment but was just about to continue when his stepbrother intervened.

"Oh, Craig, just get it over and done with. Take her to see your ex and your son!" Darren ignored the horrified look Frankie gave him. "You have told her about them, right?"

"Yes, thank you, Darren, for that. Yes, she does know about Matthew, and I was gonna go with her to see him, a bit later. Just wanted to find the right moment, when mum would be babysitting him or something…"

Darren gave his stepbrother a look of disgust before responding. "You mean that you're trying to weasel your way out of seeing John Paul? What? Are you hoping he won't find out you're here? I can't believe you, Craig! I told you what happened to him and you haven't been in touch all year? Is that what you're trying to say? He was your best friend and you have a child together!" He stopped to breath and looked around the room.

Craig was wearing his old deer-in-the-headlights expression as he struggled to find words. Before he could, though, his girlfriend spoke. Calmly.

Too calmly.

"Of course I've heard about Matthew. Craig hasn't stopped talking about how he can't wait to see him. But I have never heard of any John Paul. Is your ex now with him? Is that what he's trying to say? Or…? Is it something else?" Siobhan couldn't decide whether what she was feeling was shock or incredibility, perhaps mixed with a hint of hope. For what, she didn't know.

Before she got an answer from her boyfriend, Darren jumped to his feet, his chair tumbling down behind him in the process. "You are just incredible, Craig Dean. After everything you said about loving that guy, you're quick to jump ship." Turning towards Siobhan he continued, his voice filled with sincerity and his face with look of regret, "I'm sorry about you having to find out like this. It was just supposed to be a little joke between me and Craig here. I thought you knew all along." He then started walking away from the table, but before he left the room, he turned quickly and said quietly. "Just tell her, Craig. Love is nothing to be ashamed about."

"Just before you leave, be sure to remember to hand in your essay by Friday. As I've explained it's supposed to be a comparative analysis of two or more of Shakespeare's plays. It's your choice which ones. Late submission means a full mark down for each day!" John Paul reminded his students as they gathered their belongings and made for the door.

As the door closed behind the last one, he sighed and allowed himself to collapse into his chair, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths before composing himself and tidying up his desk. It was a rare day of no marking and he couldn't wait to get out of the building. He'd already arranged for Carmel to take care of Matthew as he was meeting Nancy for an after-work drink. He couldn't wait and although an hour early, he headed in the direction of the Dog.

Entering the pub, he saw Darren behind the bar. They nodding and smiled quickly to each other as John Paul approached it.

"Hey mate, the usual?" Darren greeted him and asked as he made to pull a pint of Guinness.

"Sure. I need one!" John Paul sighed as he rested on a stool.

"Well, you're not the only one." Darren replied, nodding to the right, in the direction of a table in the far corner.

Following his lead, John Paul turned his head and was met with the familiar eyes of the love of his life.

"Go talk to him! I'll bring the drink once it's ready, mate." Darren said before realising that his audience had already done as suggested.

"So, what's up?" Not knowing where to start, John Paul came up with the least threatening opening he could think off.

"Nothing much, I guess," Craig responded with an equal lack of involvement.

"What brings you back? All well with your mum, right?" John Paul felt a sudden apprehension.

"No, yes, she's fine," Craig assured him. "At least physically. She's a bit mad at the moment, but she'll get over it."

"What? Why is she mad? At you?" John Paul made a gesture, asking without words whether he could take a seat.

Craig gave a non-verbal approval, as he responded. "Yes, I'm an idiot. As you know very well, I guess."

John Paul sat down as Craig told him the whole story. When Darren arrived with John Paul's pint and a fresh one for Craig, the pair were already laughing and sharing stories, tentatively, but like the old friends they were.

A couple of pints later most of the initial awkwardness had evaporated and after John Paul had finished yet another precocious story about Matthew, a laughing Craig exclaimed "God, I've missed you, John Paul!"

"I can hear that!" a familiar woman's voice said behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**3 December 2014**

He was running through the village. The January dusk seemed to close in on him as he tried to reach home. But to no avail. It didn't matter which way he turned, every time the school would just appear around the next corner, and before he knew it he was back in that class-room. The one he'd refused to go back to ever since.

He turned around and ran down the corridor, trying to seek refuge in the teachers' lounge. But when he opened the door, he was right back where he started. And _he_ was there, he could feel it, creeping in the background. Invisible. But there. The other one was there as well, the one he'd trusted would help him, but who instead…

He felt trapped and cried out for the only one who could really safe him.

The crying shouts could be heard all the way downstairs to the kitchen where Myra was busy preparing tea. She switched off the gas and dropped the frying pan full of food into the sink before running upstairs.

"I'm right here!" She said soothingly as she lay down next to her son on his bed and took him into her arms. "I'm right here, son." The tears started welling up in her eyes but she paid them no attention and allowed them to flow freely as she tried to calm John Paul down. "Nothing's gonna hurt you now. No-one's gonna harm you, sweet baby."

When would this stop, she thought to herself, when would he finally be at peace after what happened?

This wasn't the first time she'd had to drop everything she was doing to see to her son since she'd returned home after waking up one morning with the certainty that she was desperately needed there. Without giving it a second thought, or contacting John Paul or Jim, she'd packed her bags and bought a ticket on the first flight back. What met her at home was a broken family and she vowed never to leave them ever again, whatever the cost. In fact, the McQueens were in such a state of mess that none of them had really managed to be surprised or angry at her for being alive and well in Spain all this time.

She'd thought the nights would be the hardest for her son, but it turned out to be the late afternoons, when he'd come home from work, dead tired, and would just fall asleep, no matter how he tried not to. The only times he didn't were when he'd go to the pub with friends or family … well, who was she kidding, it were really only Nancy and his sisters and herself that he'd meet … after work that he wouldn't fall asleep and have these dreams of what happened that day.

But she knew that however bad the dreams were, the idea of her son getting drunk every day just to escape his horrors was even worse. At least she could hope that with her help he'd eventually get his life back.

So throwing some food in the bin was a small price to pay for her son's comfort, she thought to herself as she felt his body relaxing in her arms and his breathing getting less agitated.

This past year had been difficult at work. Most days were hectic, especially after so many staff had been fired because of the continued financial crisis in Ireland. The few remaining people had to add the job load of at least two other people to their own and they were few and far between the days he could leave the office before 6 or 7pm. He feared the stress had started taking its toll sometime after the New Year. The late afternoons were the worst. Most days he could hardly concentrate during that time of day. Every time his phone rang felt like a cry for help, but every call was just as mundane as the previous one. He'd get cramps in the stomach and started to fear he was getting an ulcer. He'd even seen a doctor, but nothing could be found.

But it shouldn't happen today. I'm on holiday, he thought to himself as he sought refuge in the toilet. There should be nothing to stress me out. Then how come I'm feeling like this? Why do I feel the need to do something? That I'm needed?

He splashed some water in his face to cool down.

As he looked up he saw a familiar face in the mirror – one that belonged to the voice he'd heard the day before. Her expression was somehow vague; she was smiling, yet not smiling, kind of like the Mona Lisa.

"Yes," she whispered, "you are."

All of a sudden the dreaded class-room had evaporated and he was standing in his own room. But it was different. It was like it used to look like, with the Brokeback Mountain poster hanging on the wall. And he felt safe. In his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**4 December 2014**

Craig wasn't certain what woke him up. He looked around the room. Some reflections from the street lights were coming through the curtains but nothing could be heard apart for Siobhan's light snores where she lay next to him, closer to the wall. He moved her arm that was strangely tangled around his right arm, and quietly got out of bed. He reached out for his T-shirt and pyjama bottoms and got dressed. He looked out of the window. There was no traffic but he thought he saw some movement by the pond. He wasn't certain though. Perhaps it was just a plastic bag or something blowing in the wind.

He dropped the curtain and walked back towards the bed. As he was about to sit down, he changed his mind and headed for the door. Probably best to have some water and pee, he thought to himself.

A few minutes later he came out of the bathroom. He felt a sudden urge for a glass of whiskey and as he didn't want to wake anyone, he decided it'd be best to go down to the bar, putting on Jack's slippers before leaving the flat.

Once downstairs, he poured himself a glass and walked towards the windows. There were still no cars to be seen or heard, no bus driving past. It was as if he was alone in the world. He took a drink and just as he leaned back his head and slightly closed his eyes, he was certain he saw a movement somewhere in the semi-darkness.

He left the glass on a nearby table and moved towards the door and unlocked it. He opened it and walked outside, in the direction of the movement.

Why am I doing this? he thought to himself, have I never seen a horror film? Still, he didn't return for the warm safety of the Dog. The cold didn't affect him. He reached the pond and made his way in a clockwise direction around it. He still couldn't see anyone.

Suddenly he slipped on the slightly frozen humidity around the pond and reached out for something in order to regain his balance. He didn't fully succeed, but managed to grab a wooden post and slow down the fall so it didn't hurt as much when his behind hit the concrete tiles.

He thought he heard a small giggle and looked up and around him. He couldn't see anything but as he moved his hand to get a better grip on the wooden post to pull him up he could feel the carving underneath his fingers. He didn't really need to read it to know what it said, but did so all the same.

CD 3 SB

He traced the S with his left index finger and smiled to himself as he reflected on their final conversation, at this exact spot more than six years ago. He remained sitting there for a few minutes. As he stood up and turned around to walk back to the pub, he knew there was a smiling face reflecting in the water.

"John Paul! John Paul! Talk to me!" The pleading man kept following the young blond man down the village high street.

John Paul didn't stop, but just continued his walk. "You know there's nothing left for us to talk about, Danny! You chose your wife and that's fine. We're colleagues, nothing more. We talk together at work if we have to, and that's it. I have nothing more to say to you!"

The older man didn't give up and kept on begging his former lover to just listen to him, to give him another chance.

"Are you deaf?" A forceful dark-haired woman in her mid-twenties suddenly appeared on the scene. "He said he didn't have anything else to say to you. So leave!" She positioned herself straight in front of the older man and blocked his procession. Lowering her voice to a whisper she added, "Danny, for the last time, get over it. You made your choice. The whole village knows how you treated John Paul both before and after what happened. Have the decency to back off and take care of the mess of a family you have left." She raised her voice again, "Now, scram!"

The grey-haired drama teacher finally threw in the towel and turned away, although not before calling out, "You know where to find me, John Paul. I'm not giving up!"

The younger man had stopped upon the arrival of his old friend, and waited for her to join him.

"You're amazing, Nancy. Did you by chance tame lions in a former life?" He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and hugged her. "I'm so tired of this… him. I just wanna get on with my life, move on. I mean, he's like this once … twice a week, and then in between, he doesn't see me. Guess his wife's out of town today. Work is like, you know, and now …"

"And now Craig's back." Nancy finished where her friend's voice had trailed off. "With a girlfriend in tow. Can't be easy … for either one … for any of the three of you for that matter." She hooked his right arm in her left as the proceeded their walk to the McQueen home. "Back in the day, did you expect grown-up life would be even more difficult than the teenage years?" She asked with a sigh.

"Nope! Not even after having experienced my own family." He couldn't help but giggle. "How deluded we were!"

"I know." She laughed before becoming more serious. "So, still having nightmares?"

John Paul felt the familiar embarrassment of the topic. "Yes, I'm still having them. Although there was a slight change yesterday, according to my mum."

"What do you mean? How can she know what you're dreaming?" Nancy looked at him with curiousity.

He shrugged his shoulders before replying. "I mean, I know I fell asleep yesterday afternoon, and she said I did have the nightmare, but I didn't wake up from it. She said that after she came to my room I all of a sudden calmed down, and by the time I awoke, I was fine. I don't remember any dreaming at all, just feeling…" He felt himself blushing as he stopped speaking.

"What do you mean? What were you feeling?" His friend suddenly realised what he meant. "Ooh, okay. That must have been embarrassing, with your mum there."

"I guess. Still, it beats crying and shouting, doesn't it?" He half-smiled at her and raised his eyebrows.


	5. Chapter 5

**5 December 2014**

John Paul ignored the vibration in his pocket as he made his way from the teachers' lounge. The last class of the week was about to start and he was mentally going through what he was about do. He always looked forward to this class. Not because it was the last of the week, but because the students were there by their own choice, not because they had to.

It was an extra-credit class on literary heroines from different times and genres, and today they were supposed to analyse the presentation, roles and characteristics of Katniss Everdeen, Hermione Granger and Pippi Longstocking. Usually the students were relatively well prepared so discussions were quite flowing, but he expected today to be even better than usually. Most of the kids had read all Harry Potter books and the _Hunger Games_ before and really only had to get acquainted with the work of Astrid Lindgren to prepare.

He turned out to be right. He only had to ask a single question at the beginning and then moderate the discussion so everyone could have their say, but apart from that the students were in charge. It really was brilliant and John Paul was in great spirits as he waited for the students to file out. Some of them were already on their phones before they left which reminded him of his own phone. He fished it out of his pocket and saw that there was a missed call. Right away he recognised the unsaved landline number. He waited for the last student to leave the room before calling back.

It was Frankie who answered. He greeted her and asked whether she'd been trying to call him. No, it wasn't but she knew Craig was planning to try and see Matthew so it probably had been him. He was out with Siobhan at the moment, perhaps they were even already at the McQueen house.

John Paul hung up without saying goodbye and rang his mum. Frankie had assumed correctly, Craig was already there. Myra whispered on the phone that Matthew was very shy towards him and didn't really want to leave her side, although he was curious about this strange man.

"Should I come home?" John Paul asked, but she suggested that he'd stay away and allow Matthew to relax, she'd be there. He should go to the pub with Nancy and have a well-deserved end-of-the-week drink.

After hanging up John Paul made the third call. Nancy was game and he cleared his desk and left for the Dog.

He couldn't deny it. It was frustrating to sit there, trying to get the attention of a shy two-year-old without any real result. Craig could see that his son was intrigued by him and Siobhan, but somehow didn't really dare to walk those few steps over to his father. No, instead he hid behind his nana, but would look over towards Craig every few seconds, sometimes giggling, sometimes with fear in his eyes.

I deserve this, Craig thought to himself. How could I have expected him to just come running to me? But I'm not giving up! He decided.

It couldn't be said either, that conversation was flowing. No, the situation was rather awkward and he suspected that Siobhan thought this was a waste of time.

Suddenly Myra's mobile rang and Craig realised from her expression that it was John Paul. She walked over to the kitchen while she spoke. He couldn't really make out what she was saying. She'd left Matthew behind, where he was hiding behind her couch. Craig felt a nudge and looked towards Siobhan who was sitting next to him.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "I guess he's coming back. We better make our way."

Her words annoyed him and he shook his head as he whispered back, "I'm staying for a bit. I want to show that I'm not giving up right away. It's not as if I have all the time in the world to bond with my son. You can go if you want to. You know the way home, right?"

He didn't watch her expression as he replied, but moved his focus over to Matthew who was watching them intently. A moment later Craig felt the movement of the sofa as his girlfriend stood up without a word. She closed the door out behind her just as Myra returned from the kitchen.

Myra didn't say anything, but instead just asked, "Everything alright, love?" When he nodded, she smiled a little at him before offering him a beer.

When she'd turned her back towards him to get it from the fridge, Matthew appeared from behind the couch and started making his way tentatively across the floor.

Myra watched the proceedings in silence from the open kitchen and when she saw her grandson calmly sitting in his father's lap, she put the can back in the fridge and took a seat at the kitchen table.


	6. Chapter 6

**6 December 2014**

When he woke up the bed felt weirdly empty, given its limited width, and as he gathered his thoughts he realised that Siobhan was already up. Craig reached out for his phone and checked the time. It was 9.33. It wasn't unusual for Craig to sleep in on Saturdays, especially after a night out. He hadn't really had a drink the night before, only a couple of pints with his family after they closed the bar, so it wasn't strange that he'd wake up around this time.

He stretched his arms and thought about the previous day. He'd stayed for a while at the McQueen's playing with Matthew before heading home. He smiled at the thought of the little man in his arms and realised that he'd felt the happiest he'd ever been the moment his son had walked over to him. Craig wondered what the toddler was up to at this exact moment, whether he'd managed to get his bound-to-be extremely hung-over dad out of bed.

John Paul. He'd seen him in the pub, dancing around with Nancy, drinking shots in the bar. It worried him a little how drunk his former boyfriend had been. He hadn't really seen him anything close to this since those first weeks in Dublin, after Tina's death. Mind, that time John's drinking had been much worse, but with time he'd settled down and usually only had a couple of drinks when they'd gone out. Anyway, Craig realised it wasn't his problem anymore, and perhaps last night had been a one-off. He couldn't help worrying, though.

As he got out of bed he started wondering what Siobhan was up to. She'd usually sleep longer than him. He grabbed his jeans and t-shirt and got dressed. He checked the living-room and the kitchen. No-one there. He then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and freshen up.

A few minutes later he headed downstairs. He opened the door to the bar and just as he entered, he heard a giggling Siobhan. A moment later she appeared through the trap door behind the bar, followed by Darren.

Craig was right. It was a very hung-over John Paul that had to drag himself out of bed to take care of his son earlier that morning. It was a repeat show from the previous weekend. And the weekend before that. And the weekend before that. And so on. Since the beginning of the summer, when he actually managed to get out of the house for the first time since the rape. It was Hannah who'd managed to get him to join her for a walk.

Nancy had been trying for ages to get him to get help, but without any success. She'd ended up calling their old friend, who'd had her share of problems and knew the benefits of councelling. Hannah had been devastated by the news and taken the train back to her old town the following weekend. She'd been back a few times since then and, together with Nancy, she'd arranged for him to talk with people that knew how to deal with victims of rape. With their help, John Paul had started to get out more often, but work and a lack of self-worth had kept him from going back for too long.

He was getting fed up with this. He really needed a change from this vicious cycle. As he allowed his son to lead the way he decided that this was it. The next Saturday would be different. Tomorrow would be different.

"Come on, Matthew, let's brush our teeth and clean up." He bent down and picked up his son. "Sorry about the smell!" He whispered as he became aware of the little one wrinkling his nose.

As per usual his mum was already downstairs when he arrived in the living room. Once again he wondered whether she was psychic since she always seemed to be just about to finish making breakfast as he came downstairs on Saturdays. And it didn't matter whether it was 10.30, 9.30 or 8.30 like now.

"Morning, mum!" He kissed her cheek as he walked past her towards the sink.

"Morning, handsome!" She greeted him before putting the bacon on his plate. "And you too, my son." She joked. She took the plate and put it on the kitchen table. "Tuck in! Give me him, I'll give him some breakfast."

John Paul handed her Matthew and took a seat. "Mum, can you ha…"

"Here you are, my darling," she replied as she handed him the ketchup.

A couple of hours later John Paul was feeling much better. Matthew was playing happily with his toys, and he himself was lying on the sofa, reading the latest Bridget Jones book for his following Friday class where the topic would be "chick lit". Admittedly he was more sleeping than reading, but he didn't realise until his phone rang.

He saw the number and answered reluctantly.

"John Paul? I need to talk!"

Those few words and he was taken back seven and a half years.


	7. Chapter 7

**7 December 2014**

"Kathleen Angel! Come now if you want to join us. Matthew and I are leaving in ten… nine… eight…" John Paul didn't have to continue the countdown as the daughter of his cousin hurried from the kitchen. "Come her, get dressed, my love." He helped her take on her winter coat, hat and gloves. "It's cold outside. See Matthew, he's looking like an eskimo."

"What's an eskimo, uncle John?" the four-year-old asked.

"It's a person who lives in Greenland. They live in igloos, which are small houses made out of snow." John Paul knew that he was being very superficial and old-fashioned, probably even colonial, with his explanation, but suspected that the reality of a modern eskimo culture would be even more difficult to explain to her.

"Really? Houses made out of snow? Is it always Christmas there?" The little girl watched him with huge eyes of amazement.

"No, they only live in them during the winter. In the summer they live in tents or normal houses, I guess. Anyway, you'll learn about them later. Let's go to the park." He tried to move her focus before she'd demand to move to Greenland.

"The park!" both kids shouted joyfully as they left the house.

John Paul was sitting alone on a bench. The kids had been playing in the swings but had stopped when they realised it was snowing and were now running around trying to catch the snowflakes before they hit the ground. Other children, from two-year-olds to six- or seven-year-olds had joined their game and there were now a big group of kids playing together. The laughter was infectious and John Paul couldn't but join in their enjoyment. The same went for the other grown-ups around him, although John Paul didn't give them much attention. He heard someone join him on the bench but didn't turn to look at the person, but kept his focus on Matthew and Kathleen Angel.

"Sarah! Come here. It's getting cold. You have to wear something warmer." The person next to him called out a few moments later. "You'll catch your death!"

John Paul thought he recognised the voice and turn his head. He couldn't really see the man's face because of the thick black beard and the furry hat he was wearing. The eyes looked familiar and they lid up as the guy turned to look at him.

"John Paul? I can't believe it's you!" He exclaimed with excitement.

John Paul still wasn't certain who it was, but …

"It's me! Spike!"

Of course it was. How could he not see it right away?

"Spike. My God! How on Earth…? What on Earth are you doing here?" John Paul asked equally shocked.

There was a moment of awkward hesitation as they contemplated whether to hug or not. They didn't but just smiled at one another.

"I live her now… again." Spike explained. "But what are you doing here? I thought you'd moved to Dublin?" He asked.

"Yeah, I did. Moved back a couple of years back though. Live here now." John Paul explained, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Great! How's Craig?" Spike asked as he helped the little girl, who looked about three, put on her gloves.

"He's alright, I guess." John Paul replied, a little doubtful after yesterday's talk. "We're not together anymore. He's in town, though." He added.

"Oh. That's a shame … That you're not together anymore, I mean, not that he's in town." Spike tried to explain.

John Paul waited for a sarcastic comment about the great love of a straight man not lasting, but none came. Instead, Spike said with what John Paul saw as honesty, "I truly am sorry that it didn't work out, John Paul. I know how much you loved him. Probably still do, right?"

"Yeah, well, that's how life goes." John Paul replied. "But how about you, who's Sarah? Is she yours?"

"She's my daughter. I'm a dad!" Spike's words couldn't conceal his pride. Had her with my best friend, Darla. Best decision of my life! You here with your niece or nephew?"

"No, my son. Yeah, and a kind of a niece, I guess." John Paul added, uncertain. "She's the daughter of my cousin, a cousin once-removed, I think is the correct term, but they live with us, so she feels like my niece."

"Okay. So who's the mother? I guess it wasn't a one-night stand." Spike winked at his once boyfriend who blushed and blurted out, "No, of course not. Her mum was a friend of ours in Dublin."

"So Craig's her other dad?" Spike prodded.

"Yeah, kind of. He didn't want to be involved at first, but …"

"…now he wants to." Spike finished the question. "Well, better late than never, I guess. But what does it mean for you? Does he want to be involved with you again, as well?"

"No, not at all. He has a girlfriend now, she's here with him, but he wants to be friends again, and have a relationship with Matthew… that's my son… but he still lives in Dublin, so it's all a bit complicated." John Paul could feel his mood worsen as he tried to explain, putting into words what he'd been feeling ever since he found out that Craig was back.

"I gather. But are you available?" Spike asked, "or are you still hoping to reunite with Craig?"

"I don't know. Why do you ask?" John Paul replied with a question, his voice betraying his tiredness.

"Because I'd like to get to know you again, that's why."

"Are you sleeping in the bed tonight?" Siobhan asked as they made their way to Craig's old bedroom, "or will you be on the floor again?"

"I don't know. I still don't feel like sharing a bed with you after what happened yesterday." Craig replied. "I can't believe you'd go with Darren like that."

"I've said I'm sorry. I've just felt pushed aside since we've been back. That you're not here with me, but for _him_. And I'm not talking about your son." She snapped back. "And how do you think I felt when the first thing you did is run to _him_, your ex. You didn't even talk to me first, but just jumped to conclusion and called him, _John Paul_." She said the name is if it tasted like old milk.

"Jumped to conclusion?" Craig sputtered out sarcastically, "the correct conclusion! Do I have to remind you of that?" He paused for a moment, but there was no comment. His girlfriend just turned away, feeling embarrassed. "You cheated on me with my stepbrother, Shiv! And after all I've told you about my ex-girlfriends and him, you go ahead and do the same. I can't believe you!"

"You can't believe me? You didn't even tell me you had an ex-_boyfriend_! I have to find out from your stepbrother that your son isn't the son of an ex-girlfriend, but an ex-_boyfriend_! What does that say about us, about you? Are you that _ashamed_ of your past?" She retorted.

"No," he whispered, "I'm not ashamed. It's just…" He couldn't finish.

"It's just what?" She snarled back.

Craig closed his eyes and swallowed his saliva, trying to calm down before he finished the sentence.

"It's just that every time I was about to tell you, the mere thought of him made me so sad that I felt like crying. What would you have thought if I'd started crying telling you about my ex?" He paused for a short moment, but didn't really give her the chance to comment before continuing, "I missed him so much, and it was just easier not to talk about him." The dam burst and the tears came flooding down his cheeks.

Siobhan watched him silently for a little while before giving him a tender kiss on his left cheek, whispering softly, "I guess there's no need to ask whether you still miss him."

Then she turned around and left the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**8 December 2014**

"I think I'll leave this evening or tomorrow. Can I go online and check whether I can change my ticket?" Siobhan asked when she returned from the bathroom. She'd already got dressed before Craig was up. He'd slept on the floor again after she'd been back from her walk the previous night.

He didn't reply but handed her his laptop from where he was sitting on the mattress on the floor. She sat down on the bed behind him and opened it.

"Are you sure?" Craig whispered with uncertainty in his voice. "You don't want to stay until Thursday as planned?"

"Why, Craig? It's obvious that we're over. I realised that last night." She sighed. "It's best for everyone that I just pack my things and leave. It'll give you more time to sort out what you want with your life. I'm not angry, Craig. You're a lovely guy, but I guess you're meant for something… _someone_ else than me." She patted his head as she felt him crying. "There, there. It'll all work out for the best. I'm sure."

Neither one spoke for the next few minutes while Siobhan worked on the computer, looking at different flights. "Argh," she suddenly screamed out in irritation. "All of them are way too expensive. There's not a good ticket before Wednesday, and that's only in the evening. I might as well stay until Thursday then, no need to spend money, just to be back one night early."

"You sure?" Craig asked hesitantly. "I can pay some of it, if you need the money." He suggested.

"Thanks, Craig, but there's no need. It's not as if we'd kill each other if I stayed, right? I mean, I survived since Saturday." She laughed a little.

"So what will we say to everyone?" Craig felt his tears returning. "I mean, I can't… they can't…"

"What do you mean? They can't know that we've broken up? That I cheated on you? That you're still in love with John Paul? Is there any of this that's so bad in the grand scheme of things?"

Siobhan put the laptop aside and pushed herself down from the bed to sit next to Craig on the mattress. She took his head in her arms and pulled him towards her.

"Craig, this is just how it is. We can't change it. Let's just get it over and done with and tell everyone. If you want to I'll take the blame… with Darren. He'll get over it. Then we'll fly back on Thursday and deal with our stuff. Do you think you'll be moving back? To get him back?"

Craig felt calmer listening to her words. He moved away from her and looked her in the eye. "Do you think he'd want me back? After everything…?"

She looked back at him and smiled. "He'd be mad not to."

The text cheered John Paul up. He was on his way to class, one of the more difficult ones. The Roscoe twins were there, but the events of the previous school-year had made the evil one more subdued, although teacher and student alike remained aware of each other, ready to fight if needed.

Today, however, the young teacher entered this particular class with a lighter step than ever before.

"Morning! Take your seats, books on the table, feet on the floor, gum in the bin, attitude at home." He sang as he approached his desk and took up his own books and pens. "Today and the next few lessons, up until Christmas, we'll be discussion metaphors, what they are, where they're used, and how we ourselves can use them creatively. Then we'll look into a few different texts and analyse the use of metaphors there. Each one of you makes a short presentation, filmed with your mobile phones. I know you can all use them for other things, so let's use them for school this time around. I'll present that project in a few days, but note that it will be ten per cent of your final mark for the course."

He paused for a moment before asking, "So, what is a metaphor? Can anyone try to give me a definition?"

The nice Roscoe twin raised his hand.

"Yes, Jason?"

"A metaphor is a figure of speech that describes a subject by asserting that it is, on some point of comparison, the same as another otherwise unrelated object. Metaphor is a type of analogy and is closely related to other rhetorical figures of speech that achieve their effects via association, comparison or resemblance including allegory, hyperbole, and simile." Jason poured out in a monotonous voice.

"Thank you very much, Wikipedia!" John Paul replied. "So what does it actually mean? Can you rephrase it in your own words, words that your mates here will actually understand?"

There was complete silence in the class room. Jason was clearly trying to disappear in his seat and his twin was glowering at the teacher who decided to ignore him.

"Not that Jason's wrong, of course, this is a good definition of the term, but what we need are words that help us understand here," he pointed at his heart, "not just kind of here," pointing now at his head. "When we are using a metaphor we are saying that something not only is _like_ something else but that it actually _is_ something else. You've all heard the Rihanna song, _Diamonds_, right?" He looked around the room and saw all of them nodding. "When Rihanna sings "You're a shooting star I see," she is saying that this person she's singing to, this 'you', is 'a shooting star', which of course isn't what a person can actually be, right?"

He looked around the class room and saw some nodding, but most of them looked confused. He took his marker and wrote the phrase on the whiteboard, 'You are – a Shooting Star'.

"Look at this. What does this mean? Is Rihanna claiming that a certain human being is actually a planet that burned up in space years ago?" He walked around the class room, silently egging his students to comment. He was surprised when his nemesis raised his hand.

"Yes, Robbie?" He encouraged him nonetheless.

"No, she's saying… I mean, kind of comparing the person to a shooting star, saying that he is like one."

"Exactly, she's comparing him to a shooting star, without using the word 'like'. So what does that actually mean, how can a person be like a shooting star? Which attributes do shooting stars have?" John Paul prodded his students to dig deeper.

A few hands shot in the air.

"Yes, Di?"

"We can make a wish when we see one, so…" she hesitated for a moment before finishing, "they give us hope?"

"That's one way to see it. Anything else?" he urged the others to add their opinions. A few minutes later, they'd exhausted all the possibilities John Paul had imagined, and some more, and by the end of the class everyone had found examples of simple uses of metaphors in the lyrics of their favourite musicians.

It was a smiling John Paul that replied to the text on his way back to the teachers' lounge. 'We're on. C u 2mo! 7pm Dog? xxx'


	9. Chapter 9

**9 December 2014**

"Theresa, can you take care of Matthew tonight? Carmel backed out and mum's going to see the priest. Please, I'm going on a date… a real date… a date date… and I can't cancel. Pretty please?" John Paul begged his cousin.

"Oh, okay, I'm staying in with Kathleen Angel anyway." She agreed reluctantly. "But you…"

"I know, I owe you … big time!" John Paul clapped his hands and made his way back to his room where all his shirts were lying on the bed. Which one to choose, he thought to himself. He looked at them and felt the nerves increasing.

"Theresa?!" He called out for his cousin. "Theresa!"

She came running in on the ridiculous high heels she insisted on wearing at home as well as outdoors. "What?"

"Can you help me decide what to wear?" He tried what he believed was a winning smile. "Something that makes me look quite cute?"

"Oh, I don't know… I'm only joking… you always look cute, John Paul." She hurried to add when she saw the look he gave her. "Hold on." She looked around the bed and took up one shirt after the other. "No, not this one, not this one, not this one," she said as she threw them behind her, one by one. "A-ha, this one, voila!" She sang as she handed him a light-blue shirt. "Try this!"

She waited while he took off his t-shirt and changed. Noticing something for the first time, she couldn't help but comment, "John Paul, you've lost too much weight. Have you been eating properly lately? Working out?"

He looked at himself in the mirror and replied, "Yeah, I know. It's the stress lately. Been drinking too much coffee and not building up my muscle."

"You need to take care of that if you want to pull the fittest blokes."

He gave her a fake evil eye as he took on his shirt. "I most definitely can pull all the fit blokes I want. But you're right. I need to beef up a bit, get some more definition." He checked his reflection. "So what do you think? Can I go out like this?"

His cousin smiled at him and gave him the thumbs up. "You're gorgeous! No chance you're going home alone tonight!"

"Unless that's exactly what I want," he winked at her.

Craig finished his dinner, stood up from the kitchen table, and went to his bedroom. Siobhan was already there. She'd only had a tiny bit to eat and just wanted to be by herself after they'd told Craig's family about their break-up. Frankie had sat in silence the entire meal, but Jack tried to calm things, while Darren had made himself disappear the moment he heard that Craig had some news to tell everyone.

"This went better than expected, I guess." He said as he sat down on his bed. "Mum will come around before we leave, I'm sure." He didn't know whether he was trying to convince Siobhan or himself. So what are your plans tonight?" He asked delicately.

"I think I'll stay here, can read something and just have an early night." She replied from the mattress where she was lying.

"Okay. I'll be going downstairs in a bit, don't know how late I'll be. I'll try to be quiet if you're already asleep when I come back." He said before standing up, grabbing his jacket and leaving the room.

"Have a good night!" She called after him as he closed the door.

Craig couldn't help smiling as he made his way downstairs to the pub. Seeing John Paul there, already sitting at a table, he waved to get his attention as he walked through the bar. As he approached John Paul's table he noticed that he wasn't alone. No, a man with shoulder-length brown hair and a full beard was sitting opposite him. Craig didn't recognise him, but thought there was something strangely familiar about him. Before he could say anything, though, John Paul looked up and noticed him.

"Oh, hi Craig! Good to see you! You remember Spike, right?" He asked as he nodded towards his companion.

_Spike? Spike?_ Craig shouted in his head, but tried to remain calm. "Yes, of course I remember him. Good to see you, mate." _Mate, where did that come from_, he thought angrily. "How have you been?" _Yeah, why don't you just kiss him?_ He stretched his right hand and shook his old rival's hand.

"I'm fine. Good to see you, too, Craig. You're looking well."

Craig couldn't decide whether Spike was trying to make fun of him. "So what's up, what are you guys up to?" He asked, as innocently as he could.

"We're on a date." Spike replied matter-of-factly. "Trying to rekindle some old flames." He added, winking at Craig, who had to use all his self-control not to deck him.

Instead he just forced a smile and said, "That's nice. Can I brink you anything? You want new drinks? On me!"

He went and brought the drinks.

The rest of the night he spent hidden in a dark corner outside the pub, waiting for the two of them to leave, hoping that at least John Paul would be going home alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**10 December 2014**

He watched John Paul as he made his way home, walked up the short path that led to his house and opened the door. A moment later Craig was looking at that same door and before he could knock it reopened and John Paul was there, waiting for him. They had words, probably fought, he wasn't certain. The next thing he knew they were up in John Paul's room tearing each other's clothes off, kissing desperately, as if their lives depended on their lips being connected. Then he was inside him.

As his passion grew he became aware of his surroundings and realised where he was. Who he was with. He woke up. And he remembered.

It had been a long wait in the cold. John Paul didn't leave the pub until it closed and then Craig had to watch him leave together with Spike. He'd followed them until they reached the McQueen house where they stood talking for a while. When Spike leaned in to give John Paul a kiss, Craig couldn't watch but had turned on his foot and run all the way home. There, he'd gone straight upstairs, blinded by the tears, and Siobhan had woken up. She'd taken him in her arms, soothed him and rocked him asleep. They'd had ended up sleeping side by side on Craig's old bed.

He opened his eyes and saw the lustful compassion, or was it compassionate lust, in his now ex-girlfriend's eyes, as she thrust herself towards him in sync with his rhythm. He was too far gone physically too back off now and just closed his eyes and tried to recapture the feeling he'd had in his dream.

Once done he rolled on the side, facing away from her, and she held him, unaware of the silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

Two texts awaited John Paul when he prepared to leave work in the late afternoon. They were almost identical; 'Can I see you later today?' and 'Can I come by later today?' The first one was from Spike, the latter from Craig.

He felt the uncertainty hit him and he couldn't decide how to reply, to either one. I can't say no, can I? He thought to himself. I don't want to say no, do I? God, why can't life be simple, for once? He felt like slamming the phone in the wall.

He finally took a deep breath and sent out two texts, one reading 'Sure, come by between 5 and 6' and the other one saying 'I'll call you when I can'.

He then put the phone in his pocket and gathered his belongings and headed for the door.

He could hear Matthew crying as he walked up to the house, but it stopped the second he saw his father appear. They ran towards each other and John Paul picked up the little fella and gave him a massive hug before he tickled each of his chubby cheeks with his lips. Matthew was beside himself with laughter and didn't mind when his dad started changing his nappy. Afterwards they played for a while, before it was teatime for the little one.

John Paul had forgotten all about the text he'd sent when the doorbell rang. Carmel went to the door and he was reminded off his plans when he heard her say, "Yeah, he's here, go right through to the kitchen."

A moment later Craig appeared.

"Hiya," he said shyly, seemingly not knowing what to do, before asking feebly, "You feeding him?"

John Paul gave him an irritated look, but didn't reply, forcing Craig to continue, to take the lead.

"Yeah, I can see that. Sorry. I'm just a bit… don't know what to say… You back with Spike?" He finally blurted out, defensively.

"Nah, we're just seeing each other… casually." Craig felt his heart jump. "Who knows what will happen, though?" Craig's heart collapsed at these words. "What's up with you?" John Paul asked.

"Nothing much, just curious, 'cause… 'cause… I'm leaving tomorrow. With Siobhan. We're leaving."

John Paul was taken aback. "Oh, I'd assumed you'd be staying for Christmas. Why leaving so early?"

"No, we'd booked to go tomorrow. I didn't know how you'd deal with me wanting to see Matthew…"

"Why would I not want you to see him?" John Paul snapped back. "Have I ever tried to stop you from contacting him? Have I ever stopped your mum from contacting him? Even after she tried …"

"What? What did she try?" Craig asked with a surprised look.

"What? As if you don't know! She wanted to take him from me." John Paul looked at his ex-partner with venom in his eyes. "When Chloe made me believe that you were the dad and demanded money." Realising that Craig was being honest, he lowered his voice, "I went to your mum for help and she said that she'd give me the money, but only if Matthew would stay with her. I almost did. I mean, I'd have died rather than give him back to Chloe. She'd only have sold him to someone else. But then my … a mate helped me get a DNA test and I found out that he's mine, not yours."

"So you're his…" Craig's voice fell.

"Yeah, I'm his biological dad. Does that mean you've lost interest?" John Paul asked sarcastically.

"No, I'm just a bit disappointed. … Not that he's your son. I love yo… you so for him being your son is brilliant. But I just kind of never wanted to know for sure. Because now that we're not… that we're not together, and he's with you, it kind of makes me unnecessary. He doesn't need me. I can see that now."

"Of course he does! I tried to tell you back then, but you wouldn't listen. He needs both of us. He was created because of our love and no matter what's happened between us, he's still the result of us." John Paul tried to convince him.

Craig sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, his face hidden in his hands.

"So why are you leaving already tomorrow? Can't you change your tickets?" John Paul asked.

Craig sighed. "I… we… kind of split up, but I guess… I guess we're back on now… Shiv wants to go back as planned, and I … I owe it to her to go with her."

"Oh… okay, what do you mean, you kind of split up?" John Paul was surprised.

"Oh… nothing… it was just a misunderstanding… a sort of… I thought… She thought… Anyway, it's nothing…" He swallowed. "I'll be back soon, though. Now that we've sorted this out, with Matthew."

"John Paul! You're phone's ringing!" Carmel shouted from the living room. John Paul went to get it. Craig took his place next to Matthew and tried to continue to feed him. When his son didn't seem to want anything more to eat, he picked him up from his high chair and gave him a cuddle.

John Paul smiled at the sight as he re-entered the kitchen, answering the phone at the same time, "Hi Spike. Yeah, I'm home. I was gonna call you later." He walked over to the sink and looked out of the window. "Yeah, it was good. I'm kind of busy now, feeding Matthew. I don't think I'm free later. I think I might have plans."

Turning back to give Craig a smile he was disappointed to see that he'd disappeared, leaving their son in the high chair.

"Or, on second thought, I guess I'm free. Why don't you come over?"

Picking up his son, John Paul couldn't help the sinking feeling that they'd just been cheated out of happiness.


	11. Chapter 11

**11 December 2014**

"Craig, are you sure it's the right time to leave? I mean, just two days ago you told us it was all over between you and Siobhan, and I know that you're not in love with her. We both know… hell, we all know that… who it is you love, who you want to be with. You need to follow your heart. I know I've not always been very supportive of you and him, but I can see it now how much you miss him. I mean, you finally bring your girlfriend home after being together all this time, and it doesn't take more than a week near him and it all comes crumbling down."

Craig tried to get a word in, but to no avail.

"And you have a son with him. I know you haven't been there for them until now, but better late than never, and I know how fond you've grown of Matthew in these last few days. Why won't you stay until the New Year and see, ay?"

"Mum, I've got to go to work on Monday, and I have the ticket tonight." Craig finally managed to say something. "And besides, I didn't think you were all that fond of John Paul. He told me what you did!"

Frankie looked bewildered, but didn't manage a word before her son continued.

"Don't try that, mum, I know that you tried to take Matthew away from him. How could you do that?"

"Well, that was…" Frankie was flustered. "I was trying to do what I thought was for the best at the time. And I regret it now. I've seen how good a father John Paul has been, and just wish you'd be here to participate. I miss you, Craig, and Matthew needs you. Please, Craig, don't leave now!"

"I have to. There's no use in staying. I can come back a few times a year, and when Matthew's older, he can come and stay with me. But I won't be moving back. Not now."

Frankie managed to withhold the tears until her son had left the kitchen.

"John Paul?"

"Yeah, hi…" The young man was surprised to hear this particular voice as he picked up the phone.

"Can we talk? Am I disturbing?" The voice asked hesitantly.

"No, not really. I'm in between classes. What's wrong? Anything happened? To Craig? To Matthew?" He got more distressed as he wondered why his former almost mother-in-law was calling him like this.

"No, nothing's happened. Well, apart from…" She paused for a moment. "Craig's leaving tonight and you need to stop him!"

"What?" John Paul asked in shock.

"You need to stop him, John Paul! The two of you should be together. He's broken up with Siobhan, but whatever's going on between you and that Spike has made him decide to go back, and I'm scared that he'll try and mend this thing with her, and we all know it's not gonna make him happy. You are the only one who can do that, I realise that now. I'm begging you, John Paul! Talk to him! Stop him from leaving!"

"Frankie.. I …" John Paul was speechless.

"His flight's at nine thirty. Stop him!"

He was filled with dread as he entered the airport. One of the worst moments of his life once took place here, and he wasn't certain tonight would be any better. He hurried to the check-in information and found that check-in had already started for the Dublin flight. Damn cab driver taking the wrong turn or he'd have been here before check-in opened. Now he couldn't be certain that Craig hadn't already checked in and gone through security. John Paul ran to the check-in desk. There was quite a long cue and he hoped that it was a good sign. No Craig could be found, though. He looked and searched but he wasn't there. He then ran back, to the escalator that lead to security and the departure hall. He noticed a dark-haired man that resembled his ex-boyfriend just exiting at the top, together with a woman that could well be Siobhan. There was no time to waste on thinking about whether it was a restricted area or not. He jumped on the escalator and pushed past people as he climbed to the top. He then started running again, calling out Craig's name as he got nearer the couple. He finally caught up with them and grabbed the man's upper arm.

It wasn't him.

"Sorry, I… I…." He stammered. "I thought you were someone else. Sorry." He felt the disappointment hit him like a tidal wave. "I apologise! Have a safe flight." He whispered as he turned around to make his way back to find a staircase or a lift that would take him downstairs again. Near the escalator he saw a sign that read 'way out' and walked in that direction, past a door to a men's toilet. He'd just turned around the next corner when the person he'd been looking for came through that door and walked in the opposite direction, towards security.

He found Siobhan sitting on a bench, together with their baggage.

"Craig?" She half-asked uncertainly.

"What?" He asked back.

"I'm not certain, but I think John Paul might just have been here looking for you."

She had barely finished her sentence when he'd taken off, running back towards the escalator. He didn't hesitate but charged down, against traffic, and managed to slalom his way. He then ran around the check-in area but couldn't find John Paul. He ran outside the building, to the cab and bus stops, but there was no John Paul there.

Finally, he gave up and made his way back upstairs where Siobhan was still waiting for him. He shook his head and she took him in her arms and led him through security.

Not wanting anyone to see him crying, John Paul had found a secluded spot on the other side of the bus stop. He was still sitting there when both he and Craig remembered that they had each other's mobile number.

By then, Craig's plane was already on the runway.


	12. Chapter 12

**12 December 2014**

"Take the plunge, Craig! What have you got to lose?" The dark-haired beauty urged him on.

Craig looked outside, at the clouds around the plane, the green fields below, the houses that looked so small from this angle.

"My life," he whispered. "Like you did."

"But I did jump. That's always gonna be risky. And I wasn't scared. Not when it came to it. And neither will you." Sarah smiled at him. "Come, let's do it together." She took his hand and led him to the open door. "On three, yeah?"

He nodded.

"One. Two. Three."

Craig felt his feet leave the floor as they jumped but before he experienced the wind hitting him and the free fall, he was jerked back to consciousness, as he woke up in his bed in Dublin.

Sarah's smile lingered on in his mind and a plan formed in his head. He knew what to do. He got out of bed and headed for the shower. He had work to do.

Who finished the last of the milk? John Paul thought to himself as he tried to pour from the bottle that he'd found almost empty in the fridge. His morning cup of coffee wouldn't be the same without it. I'm sure we had enough last night. He didn't want to shout at the other family members and disturb his quiet moment, so he decided to leave it for now and ask later. He opened the fridge again and found a little leftover of double cream which he poured into the coffee with the help of a teaspoon.

As he sat down at the kitchen table and mixed the coffee and cream he thought he could hear something outside his house. He took his cup and went to look through the kitchen window. Nothing there. He walked into the living room and took a peek through the curtains. He wasn't certain but he thought he saw some movement. He headed for the door but hesitated a bit before opening. He took one step outside and looked around. No-one was in the garden, but not very far away he could see the shape of a tall man. Something was weird with the way he walked. At first John Paul thought that he was limping, but suddenly it struck him. It was as if the man's legs had no knees, so he had to kind of shake them in half circles to put one in front of the other. Trying to imitate the motion, John Paul was amazed by the speed the strange man managed to make his way down the street.

Suddenly the December cold hit him and John Paul was reminded that he was only wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown. He hurried back inside, but took one look back before he closed the door. The man had disappeared.

John Paul sat down on the sofa and took a drink from his cup as he tried not to think of the disappointment of the previous night. Unsuccessfully. The scene replayed in his mind repeatedly and he couldn't but wonder how he could have gone about the whole think differently. Or whether he shouldn't have tried at all in the first place. He hadn't been able to pick up Frankie's calls or listen to the numerous voicemail messages she'd left. Finally she'd given up, but John Paul was convinced she'd try again as early as courtesy would allow her.

He sighed and wondered whether he should just go back to bed, call in sick, and switch off his phone. He really could use some private time for himself.

Yeah, that's it. He thought to himself as he took the half-empty cup, stood up and walked to the stairs. Putting his left foot on the first tread he was reminded of the strange man outside. How would he manage a flight of stairs? He tried to spin his right leg but realised that the rotation of the leg required a wider radius so he put his left foot as far to the left as possible. Like that, he just about managed to get his right foot onto the next tread. Using his hands to pull himself up, he made it. He then had to move his legs sideways all the way to the right to do the same with his left leg. He struggled, but it was possible.

He didn't know what inspired him to continue his ascension like that, but once upstairs, he'd forgotten all about calling in sick and went straight for the bathroom to shower the sweat away.


	13. Chapter 13

**13 December 2014**

"Cheers!" John Paul thanked the barista who had handed him the latte macchiato, before continuing his conversation with his friend. "So I decided that enough was enough. I have to stop hoping that we'll get back together. So when Spike texted yesterday, I decided to say yes and join him next weekend for a weekend break in London. I don't know whether anything's gonna happen with Spike, but I need to move on."

He put his drink on a table as he zipped up his parka and put on his gloves. He then picked up the paper cup and took a drink. The coffee was lacking its usual smoothness and he realised the foam was missing. Taking the coffee back to the surprised barista, he shook his head at Nancy, "I don't know what's happening to my coffee these days. Yesterday there was no milk left in the fridge, and I was convinced that we had a full pint bottle the night before, and now the foam just seems to vanish. I mean, I'm certain I saw the guy make the drink.

A little later he received a freshly made cup and this time around he took no chances but took a drink right away to check that it was like it was supposed to be. Making their way out of the coffee shop, neither one noticed a thin, little man hiding in a stall, with a lightly brown foam creating a milky moustache. If they'd looked, they'd have seen the look of disappointment as his eyes followed the paper cup approaching John Paul's lips.

"So, you want me to believe that you're over Craig?" Nancy was unconvinced. "Yeah, right!"

"No, I don't mean that I'm over him. I probably never will. But what I'm saying is that it's no use. He's not for me. I should have listened to my mum back then. If he was mine, I'd have found him at the airport. This was destiny telling me to let go, end off." He shrugged and took a drink.

"Well, perhaps you're right." He could hear the scepticism in his friend's voice. "I still think there's a chance for the two of you, but I agree, you shouldn't spend your life pining for him, without doing anything about it! Why don't you just go for it? Go to Dublin. Don't expect him to come for you. Be proactive! What's the harm in that?"

"I don't know. I can't just up and leave Matthew here. And besides, he broke up with me. He left me." He complained.

"John Paul, what are you like? This is no time for petty pride. Will you really let that stop you from following your heart? From being happy?" She laughed coldly. "Then you're not the John Paul I know and love." She turned towards him, grabbed his upper arms with her hands and started shaking him. "Who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

He giggled and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm serious, John Paul." She said as she took his head in her hands, holding his face steady mere centimetres from her own. "Don't give up on him. Think about it! I'm not saying you shouldn't go to London with Spike, but before you commit to anything with him, you should make sure that it really is over with Craig. It's not fair if you don't. It's not fair on Spike. It's not fair on Craig. It's not fair on Matthew. And it definitely isn't fair on you!" She let go off his head and took his arm. "Okay, let's go pick up the boys. Tom must be going mental."

"Shiv, where's my black and white jumper?" Craig shouted from the bedroom. "I can't find it everywhere!"

She appeared in the doorway. "Try the bottom drawer. I think I put it there last spring. You really want to wear it today?"

He ignored the look of disbelief on her face. "No, not today. I just wanna have it handy if it gets more chilly. Don't wanna spend all my salary on heating this place. Better to dress properly and save a bit of money."

He bent down and opened the drawer. The snowflake-patterned jumper was exactly where Siobhan had suggested. He picked it up and patted it absentmindedly, not noticing her leaving the room. He unfolded the jumper and inspected it fondly. He noticed that small holes had started to appear at the elbows. He put his hands inside, stretched his arms, raised them above his head and pulled the jumper down around his neck. He stood up and corrected it on his torso. It still fitted him, but looking at the mirror he realised that he'd matured since he got the jumper for Christmas as a teenager. It most definitely wasn't a face of a teenager that stared back at him. He was an adult now and he realised what it was Siobhan saw when she saw him wearing this jumper. It was of a time and age that was gone. He wasn't the same scared kid that had tried to apologise to John Paul after beating him up; the guy that had tried to convince himself that Sarah was the one he wanted.

No, the Craig staring back was different, grown up. Had a purpose and a plan.

He took off the jumper, folded it carefully and placed it on the bed. The time was now.

"Shiv? Shiv?" He called out as he walked towards the bedroom door. "We need to talk!"


	14. Chapter 14

**14 December 2014**

His head was banging as if there was a flock of carpenters hammering at his temples. As he became aware of himself he felt the horrible taste in his mouth. He'd had one too many at the party last night. He didn't regret it though. It had been a great party, wonderful to see all of his mates like that, coming to give him a decent send-off. Yeah, he'd told everyone he'd decided to pack his things and move back to Hollyoaks. Siobhan agreed with him that he needed to give it another go, getting back with John Paul, and she offered to keep the belongings he didn't need to begin with until he'd found a place to live.

He stumbled out of bed, went to the toilet and found some painkillers before heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He found one clean glass left in the cupboard and managed to squeeze it in between the dirty dishes in the sink. Something seemed to be missing, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Finally, he just shrugged it off, took the medicine and refilled the glass with water before going back to bed.

A couple of hours later he woke up again to find Siobhan in the kitchen, doing the dishes.

"Any coffee?" He asked as he opened the fridge.

"Yeah, there should be a couple of cups left. But Craig," she paused, "can you remember where we put the frying pan last night?"

"I just left it on the table, next to the sink. Why?" He asked as he poured himself a cup.

"It's not there. And I can't find it anywhere. There were some leftovers in it, as well, right?" She looked back from where she was standing at the sink.

"Sure, yeah, I'd been looking forward to having a bit now."

"Me too. Any chance you might have had some when you got up earlier?" She saw the surprised look on his face. "Yeah, I heard you."

"Okay, I thought you were asleep. No, I didn't have any. Come to think of it, I actually noticed that something was missing, but didn't realise what it was. It must be here somewhere, though. I can remember taking it back, putting it there. I'll check the living room, okay." He headed out the door.

"No, I've already checked there. Also in the fridge, all the cupboards and the oven. It's nowhere! You don't think…?" She didn't finish the question.

Craig did. "No, none of our friends would have taken it. Maybe hidden it for us, as a prank, but not stolen it, for sure. Okay, I'll look around the flat. Dean or Huw might have put it somewhere before they left.

He left the kitchen and headed to the living room. He started by checking all drawers and cupboards, under the sofa and chairs, behind the telly. No frying pan there. Nor in the bathroom, the extra bedroom or any of the small cupboards and closets scattered about the flat and the common areas of the house.

He'd just entered the kitchen again to report back to Siobhan, when he was reminded of the small space in the attic. They'd never used it, but he remembered his landlord pointing it out to them when they went to see the flat. He left again, holding a chair, and went back to the hallway where there was a trapdoor in the ceiling. He stepped on top of the chair and reached up for the small hook and pulled it open. A narrow wooden ladder automatically slid down. He went down from the chair, pushed it back and secured the ladder before ascending it.

Once upstairs he couldn't find any light switch, so he reached for his mobile in his pocket and put the torch app on. There were a few old things from previous inhabitants scattered about, and lo and behold, there was the frying pan, near the far corner. He climbed all the way upstairs and made his way across the half-finished floor. He picked up the frying pan and turned around. Surprised to see that all the remains had been cleaned off, he just missed the short feet of the tiny man hiding in the corner.

"John Paul, you're joining me."

It wasn't a question and he knew better than argue with his mother.

"Theresa will take care of Matthew. I've already arranged it. Just jump in the shower and get ready."

Her son obeyed his mother and headed for the bathroom.

An hour later they were standing outside the church. Usually this is where the journey would end for John Paul, those few times she asked him to take her to church, but for some reason he decided to enter with his mum this time around.

The interior was like he remembered it. They walked up the aisle and took a seat in one of the pews. A few minutes later, mass started, but he didn't really follow the proceedings, but sat there thinking about the previous times he'd been to mass. It didn't stop him, though, from noticing that there was a new priest, a good-looking blond man, probably in his mid-thirties.

Little by little, his self-awareness diminished and he felt himself drift off, as if he'd fallen asleep. Still, he felt that he remained awake somehow, as he tuned in to the sermon.

It intrigued him. Not that it was totally different from the previous sermons he'd heard. In fact, it reminded him a lot of some of the things Kieron would discuss with him. Yet, there was a different tone, less argumentative, less moralistic, more inclusive, as he spoke of Christ's role as the saviour of the poor and the mistreated, the cast-outs and the ill. Without preaching, he cleverly reminded the congregation of the true essence of Christmas, and John Paul felt better than he'd felt in a long time, when he regained, for a lack of better words, consciousness.

Myra smiled knowingly at him as she whispered, "I told you he was good," before rising to her feet and joining the queue for communion. John Paul remained in his seat.

After the service Myra hung back, talking to some members of the congregation her son had seen before but wasn't really acquainted with. John Paul headed down the aisle, but just as he reached the door, the priest came walking back inside.

"Oh, hello, I'm Father Daniel. I haven't seen you here before. You're Myra's son."

It was a statement, rather than a question, but John Paul replied all the same. "Yeah, I'm John Paul."

They shook hands.

"So what brings you to church?" The priest asked.

"My mum," John Paul let out a short giggle. When the priest didn't comment he continued. "And when we got here, something told me that I should enter."

"Sure, something." Father Daniel smiled at him. "Feel like talking about your experience today?"

"Not particularly. It was better than expected, I guess."

The father remained silent, but watched the younger man intently.

"I liked your sermon, very down to earth. Not the old 'you're going to hell' speech that I've heard so often from the church." John Paul felt his irritation and anger surface as he spoke.

"So why should you be going to hell?" Father Daniel asked him kindly.

"Because I'm gay." John Paul replied defensively.

"Is that so?" The priest nodded seriously. "Anything you want to talk to me about?"

"What? Changing? No, not at all." John Paul turned and prepared to storm off.

"No, I don't wanna change you, no, but perhaps you'd like to discuss how you can be happier, with the religion you're brought up with." Father Daniel remained calm.

"So you're trying to tell me that I can be both gay and catholic without going to hell?" John Paul snarled back sceptically.

"I believe so, yes. That's what I truly believe, and that's what my friend Kieron believed as well. You knew him, I gather."

John Paul felt the anger disappear as his feet got stuck to the floor. "You knew Kieron?"

"Yes, we did seminary together." Father Daniel explained. "He was a little younger than me and we became good friends. Actually, I was the first person to ask him whether he was gay." He laughed quietly. "My best friend from school's gay so I recognised the signs. Was probably a bit inconsiderate of me to ask like that, but there you go. He struggled with his faith, but decided that celibacy was the right way forward for him. Guess it was me who was right about that."

"What do you mean?" John Paul asked.

"I don't know whether I should open up like this, but I don't really believe in the necessity for celibacy to be a good priest. It's worked for me, until now, at least, but Kieron was so full of love to give that it was only a matter of time before he'd fall in love. Your mum has told me all about your relationship with him." Father Daniel explained.

"She was very fond of him, you know." John Paul commented.

"I know. Anyway, it's been nice talking to you, John Paul. I hope you'll return. My office is always open for my congregation, if you ever feel like talking some more. I better see to the few remaining sheep." He offered his hand to John Paul who shook it quickly.

"Sure," he whispered, a moment after the priest had left him standing there by the door.


	15. Chapter 15

**15 December 2014**

"Good morning. Can I help you, sir?" Ste pronounced the last work mockingly as he left the cookie dough he was preparing for the following morning and headed to the counter of his deli.

"Morning Ste," John Paul sighed, "I'd like one latte and a cinnamon bun. To go! Please." The last word was a little delayed.

"Treating yourself?" the younger man asked, seemingly without any real interest.

"Well, last week of teaching before Christmas. You going to see Amy and the kids?" John Paul asked, knowing the question might sting.

"No, not now." Ste replied, with a heaviness that made John Paul regret having asked.

"I'm sorry, Ste, I shouldn't have asked like this. It was uncalled for. And insensitive." He tried to apologise

"Well, it's not your fault really." Ste sighed. "Take a seat, I'll let you know when the coffee's ready."

When John Paul had left the shop Ste went back to his baking. To his surprise the rubber spatula he'd been using to clean the mixer bowl was nowhere to be seen.

As he headed back to work, John Paul heard his phone signalling the arrival of a text message. He picked it up and read it, while walking past a chubby man in a greyish woollen jumper. The text was from Spike asking whether he'd like to go to the cinema or something Tuesday evening. He smiled as he replied. As a result he didn't notice the woolly guy licking his lips or the green spatula on the ground next to him.

A couple of minutes later a new text arrived. They were on for a quiet night at the McQueen's.

He didn't notice himself whistling _Last Christmas_ as he continued his walk.

His last day at work seemed to be endless. One meeting after the other where he had to report to various bosses and colleagues on the progress of his assignments.

Still, Craig was relieved how kindly his superiors had agreed to his leaving the job with such short notice. He'd been asked to sign a contract banning him from working for a competitor in Ireland for the next couple of years, but that had been easy enough. He didn't have any plans to return to live there, and if he did, he'd definitely find a different type of work. It would be good to have it on his CV, though, so he did everything according to his bosses' wishes.

Finally, the last meeting ended and he went to his desk to finish clearing his things. Picking up his briefcase he felt a little wistful as he left his office and walked down the corridor. As he exited the building he was surprised by a group of workmates that had been hiding behind plants, rubbish bins and other things in the vicinity.

"You're not escaping that lightly, my dear fellow," his mate George told him as he gave him a hug. "We're all going to the pub, of course! You can't just leave without buying us a round."

"I'll be skint." He joked. "You should be buying me the rounds!"

"We'll see what we can do about that," George replied.

Four hours and six pints later, Craig finally made it out of the pub and decided to walk home. He chose a route he'd stayed clear off ever since John Paul left, over the Ha'penny Bridge.

He'd read the news about the city council clearing off the lovelocks and for months he didn't want to check whether the lock he'd made with John Paul had been removed or not.

Tonight he felt ready, though. The lock was only a symbol of what had been, and what had been was gone anyway, so it was fitting that the lock would be gone, too. If… When he'd get back together with John Paul, it would be a new relationship, yes, built on love that had lasted for years, but it needed a new foundation, and no lovelock on a bridge in Dublin would do.

The bridge looked a bit different without the locks. The old ones were gone, but some determined people had just replaced them with new ones. Guess it will be an endless war, he thought to himself as he approached the place where he and John Paul had put theirs.

It was gone.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued his walk home.

He'd put a new one there with their names on it when he'd return.

He was determined!


	16. Chapter 16

**16 December 2014**

"Here you are. Tuck in, kids!" Frankie put the large dish of piping hot lasagne on the table. Tom was the quickest to grab the spoon and the spatula and made himself a big serving. A minute later everyone had managed a slice and were enjoying their food when there was a knock on the door.

"Who can this be?" Jack went to check. There was no-one there. He went downstairs to the pub to ask whether Darren had seen anyone going upstairs to the flat. He hadn't. Jack shook his head as he returned to the kitchen.

A few minutes later someone knocked again.

"Stop joking, Darren, I know it's you!" Jack shouted as he stood up from the table and walked to the door again. "Craig?" He shouted with surprise. "Was it you who knocked before?"

"No, I just…" Craig didn't manage anything else before he was engulfed by his mum who'd come running from the kitchen upon hearing his name.

"You're back!" She cried. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Everyone was now cramped in the hallway and when Craig had given all of them a massive hug, he could start answering all of their questions. First though, he wanted to take his things to his room. "You go back to your dinners and I'll join you in a minute," he said.

Returning from his bedroom, he was surprised by the silence from the kitchen. He entered and found his family standing there, all of them completely gobsmacked.

"What's wrong?" He asked his mum.

"What's wrong?" She repeated in a high voice. "What's wrong is that someone's eaten our food. It's all gone."

Craig looked at the table and realised that she was right. All the plates were wiped clean and there was nothing left in the glass dish. Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud burp outside the window. Looking out, they saw a small man with a large belly climbing down the wall.

Spike had already made himself comfortable on the sofa when John Paul came over from the kitchen with two cups of tea and a plate full of biscuits.

"What am I? Your nana?" Spike joked as he accepted his cup. "Ta! Nice!" He lay back on the sofa after taking a drink. "Come here." He patted the empty spot next to him.

John Paul hesitated for a second before doing as he was told. "So what are we watching?" He asked.

"We're watching _Breaking Bad_, the first few episodes. You haven't seen it, right?" Spike replied.

"No, I haven't. No-one in the house wants to watch programmes like that." John Paul complained.

"Well, I can amend that. The disc's already in the DVD player." Spike pointed at the TV.

John Paul reached for the remote controls needed to change channels and start the first episode. "So what's this about?" He asked.

"Are you telling me you don't know anything about the greatest TV-programme ever made?" Spike retorted mockingly.

"Yeah, I mean, I've heard about it, of course, but don't know what it's about." John Paul felt a bit awkward admitting this.

"Well, it's about this science teacher who's diagnosed with cancer and decides to start making crystal meth to get some money because he doesn't have any insurance to cover the treatment. It's very dark, but funny." Spike explained.

"Okay, sounds interesting. Bring it on!" He said as he pressed play.

Spike wasn't exaggerating in his description, John Paul thought as they started the third episode. Little by little they'd got more comfortable on the sofa and were now lying shoulder to shoulder, heads sometimes touching as they'd lean towards each other.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. With irritation John Paul struggled to his feet and went to open. He was surprised to see who was stood outside.

"Craig?" He whispered.

"Hi, John Paul. Can I come in?" Craig asked with a hesitant smile on his lips.

John Paul couldn't speak but moved aside, allowing his ex-boyfriend to enter. Craig's smile disappeared when he saw Spike, who'd stood up from the sofa.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're already together?" Craig asked, trying his best not to shout in anger and embarrassment.

"No, we're not. We're just hanging out, watching _Breaking Bed_… I mean _Bad_. It's not like we were having sex." John Paul raised his voice in defence.

"Oh, so this is not a date I'm crashing?" Craig retorted in disbelief.

"Okay, you might call it a date." John Paul admitted. "But I was in full right to be on a date. I mean, you'd already left town. I tried to catch you at the airport." He tried to explain.

"What?" Now it was Spike's turn to be indignant. "You're dating me, and still you tried to stop him at the airport? I can't believe this!" He picked up his jacket from the railing knob where he'd left it earlier. "Goodbye, John Paul." He said as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

"Spike? You forgot…" John Paul tried to call after him, "your DVDs." He whispered the last two words as he let himself fall down on the sofa.

Craig was still standing near the door, fidgeting with his hands, not knowing what to say. After a while he took a decision and walked to the easy chair next to the sofa and sat down.

They didn't speak for a while.

"So, you're back?" John Paul finally whispered.

"Yes. I'm back. For good." Craig replied. "I want to be a part of yours and Matthew's life. I knew you'd come to the airport. Shiv thought she'd seen you, but you were gone once she told me. I couldn't see you anywhere."

"Yeah. I thought it was destiny telling me to let go, leave it. Maybe we should. Do just that. Leave it." John Paul said in surrender.

"Is that what you really want, John Paul? In here?" Craig pointed at his heart. "'Cause I don't. I want to try and see whether we can have a future together. Here in Hollyoaks. No more hiding away in Dublin. No more living my life in shame." He paused. "I love you, John Paul. I want to be with you."

John Paul started crying. Craig stood up and moved to the sofa to take him in his arms. John Paul pushed him away and left the sofa.

"Do you know how much I've wanted to hear those words in the last couple of years? I've longed for you, Craig. I almost went back to Dublin a few times. I even booked the flight a couple of times. But then the doubt returned. 'He'd come for me, if he really loved me.' 'He'd never have left me, if he really loved me.' So I never went there."

"But now I am here. I know it's taken me too long, but better late than never, right?" Craig asked in a hopeful tone of voice.

"I guess… I don't know. Craig, I don't know what to do." John Paul let his hands fall to his sides before moving them up to hide his face. A while later he revealed his face again. He'd stopped crying. He looked at Craig and said calmly, "Go."


	17. Chapter 17

**17 December 2014**

"I better put some biscuits out, in case the cat comes around today." Nancy told John Paul who was sitting at her kitchen table.

"Which cat? You don't have one, do you?" He asked her, confused.

"No, I don't, but these last few weeks this strange cat has been what should I call it … visiting me most days. He's not moved in, but he's usually in around this time begging for food. I don't really know what human food's suitable for a cat so after a few days I just bought some dry cat food to have." She poured some cat biscuits into a bowl and put it on the floor. "So, what are you saying," she returned her attention to her friend, "you threw him out?"

"Yeah… no… not really threw him out, but told him to go. He did, but said that he's not giving up. I don't know what to do. I'm so confused, Nance!" John Paul laid his hands flat out on the table.

"Duh!" She exclaimed. "You get back together! You've been crying for him for two years, been through a crap relationship with creepy married guy, and you'd even decided last week to stop him at the airport. I don't know what you're thinking – it's a no-brainer, John Paul. You're just creating problems for yourself, postponing the inevitable. More coffee?" she asked.

"No thanks. I'm good. Perhaps you're right. I need to give it a go. I guess, I'll never put him behind me if I don't see what will happen this time around. There've just been so many disappointments over the years." He sighed.

"That's life, John Paul. Nothing's perfect. Not even Craig. And not even you, for that matter," she added. "He loves you and you love him. It's simple. You both have loved each other for years. You made a mess of it back then but this is another day, another year. And he wants to be with you, here, in front of his entire family. That's something new!"

"I know, Nance. And I do feel that he's different now. I mean, he didn't try and fight me last night when I asked him to go, just told me calmly that it wasn't over and that he'd be back. Then he left. Usually he'd try to win me over, kiss me, tempt me with sex, but yesterday he didn't. It felt … serious, I guess." John Paul flinched in shock as something touched his ankle.

"Oh, the cat's here." Nancy said, noticing the sudden movement across the table. She looked down and watched the cat approaching her. "Come here, kitty-kitty." She reached out her left hand to touch it.

The cat ignored her hand and continued its journey across the kitchen floor towards the bowl of cat food.

"Oh well. Just eat then!" Nancy said in mock insult.

Suddenly there was a loud meow from the cat, which then came running towards its hostess.

"What's wrong, kitty?" Nancy asked in a baby-voice. "Wrong kind of food?" She rose to her feet and went to check the bowl.

It was empty.

She turned to John Paul, a bewildered look on her face.

She didn't notice the eye watching her from the small slit on one of the lower cupboards. The cat did, let out a loud growl and jumped on the door.

"John Paul in?" Craig asked Myra who'd come to the door.

"No, he's out, love. Said he'd go see Nancy after work. He should be home soon, though. He won't leave Matthew waiting for long. You wanna come in and see him?" She opened the door wide as she took a step back.

"Cheers. That would be great." Craig replied gratefully. Seeing his son playing in the living room he called out his name. Matthew looked up from his toys and smiled at his father before returning his attention to the book he was holding.

"A book-worm like your dad, ay?" Craig joked as he sat down on the floor next to the boy. "You wanna show daddy Craig?"

Matthew held out the book and started talking in a language Craig couldn't really understand. He listened, though, and said 'yes' and 'no' at what he believed where the appropriate places.

Suddenly Matthew slammed the book in Craig's lap and said clearly, "Ree boo!"

Craig took the book and asked, "Do you want daddy Craig to read the book?"

Matthew nodded and climbed up to his lap and sat himself there.

Craig showed his son the cover page and read aloud, "Mr. Brown can moo! Can you? Can Matthew moo? Daddy can moo. Mooooooo!" He imitated a cow. "Can Matthew moo?" He asked his son.

"Noooo." Matthew attempted.

"Uhmmmmmoooo." Craig repeated, emphasising the M-sound. "Matthew?"

"Mmmmoooo," Matthew tried again.

"Yes, well done, Matthew!" Craig cheered. Then he opened the book and started reading.

A few minutes later he closed the book and looked up at John Paul who was standing in the doorway. Craig knew he'd been there for a while, as he'd heard the door open.

"Hi John Paul. Funny book, right?" He asked, hesitantly.

"It is," John Paul replied noncommittally. "You're good with him."

"Cheers. That's good to hear." Craig let out a quiet sigh of relief. "I came back as I told you last night."

"So you did. Okay, Craig. We better talk. You wanna go for a walk? We can take Matthew for a short walk before teatime." John Paul suggested.

"Sure!" Craig replied quickly. "I'd like that."


	18. Chapter 18

**18 December 2014**

He woke up to a loud banging noise. What was it? He thought to himself. He crept out of bed and looked out the window, but couldn't see anything. The street looked empty and quiet. He opened the door to check if anyone was there. No-one. The door to the bathroom was ajar and nothing but the rhythmic breaths of sleeping people could be heard from the other bedrooms. He returned to his room and checked Matthew's bed. Sleeping like an angel. John Paul felt his love for this little fella surge through his entire being as he pulled the duvet up to his shoulders. As he went back to bed he checked his phone. Three forty-five.

He woke up to a loud banging noise. What was it? He thought to himself. He crept out of bed and looked out the window, but couldn't see anything. The street looked empty and quiet. He opened the door to check if anyone was there. No-one. The door to the bathroom was ajar and nothing but the rhythmic breaths of sleeping people could be heard from the other bedrooms. He returned to his bedroom and sat down on a chair by the window. He felt wide awake and the conversation with John Paul the night before was on repeat in his mind, small bits at the time.

_"You want to get back together?" "Yes I do!" "It took you long enough, didn't it?" "Yes, perhaps, but I'm here now." "For how long, ay? A month? Six months? Two years? Five years? Ten years? How long do you think it will take you this time to forget what we have – to let the fear take over your life?"_

How could I answer something like that truthfully? How could I not answer? Craig argued in his mind. I mean, I'm here, ain't I. Everyone knows who I love. It's all out in the open. Why can't he see that?

_"Craig, we're fine, Matthew and I, I've made a good life for him." "I can see that, John Paul. You're a great dad. I just … I just want to be a part of it, like I always should have been." "You could have, Craig. From Day One you could have, but you chickened out. How do I know you won't do that again? I can't put Matthew through that. No matter how much I love you, he's my priority, and I have to do what's best for him, not for me!" "You admit then that you believe that I'd be the best thing for you, John Paul?" "You're twisting my words, Craig." "Sorry, I'm just trying to cling on to some hope" "You know I love you, Craig. You're the love of my life. I'll never love anyone as much as I love you. But it's not enough. My son … Our son comes first. And I'm not certain that it's the same for you."_

I'll show you, John Paul. Craig thought to himself. I'll show you. Matthew is the most important thing in my life now. I'll do anything for him. Even lose you. Even lose both of you.

His nerves calming down, Craig started to drift off. A little later his sleep was disrupted again by a similar sound as before. This time he knew what it was. It was the sound of someone in the house slamming a door shut.

He hadn't really fallen asleep again but lain in bed, contemplating whether he'd been too harsh with Craig the night before. He felt awful for causing someone he loved so much such pain, but as he replayed the conversation in his head, he knew that he'd done the right thing. That little guy over there deserved stability, not the chaos of an on-again-off-again relationship between his two fathers. This knowledge didn't stop the sadness in his heart, though. He drifted off, still thinking about Craig, but a little while later his sleep was disrupted again. He knew straight away that it was the same sound that had woken him up earlier. Someone in the house had just slammed a door shut.


	19. Chapter 19

**19 December 2014**

"John Paul. Hi it's me." Craig said on the phone after his ex-boyfriend answered. "I'm here at your mum's and she was telling me about your cancelled weekend plans. I didn't know you'd be planning to go to London this weekend. You should have told me!"

John Paul sighed and answerer reluctantly, "Oh, well. It was Spike's idea, but now that he's out of the picture, there's …"

"If you still wanna go to London, I can take care of Matthew," Craig offered. "I'm sure you were looking forward to it. I know things have changed with Spike, but you can take someone else with you, Nancy or one of your sisters." Or me, he thought to himself, before continuing, "And how about Michaela? When did you last see her?"

John Paul was taken aback by the offer. "Uhh, I can't remember. I guess she came home for Easter, but I wasn't really … never mind. I can't just ask them out of the blue. I mean, we were gonna take the train later today."

"John Paul, there's nothing wrong with asking. If they can't go, they can't, but perhaps one of them can and wants to. You're free as a bird this weekend if you want to. I'll stay here if you'd rather Matthew was at home in familiar surroundings, or I can take him to mum's, you decide. But I think you should go!" Craig said convincingly.

"Okay. I'll call Nancy." John Paul sighed. "Give me a few minutes. I'll call you back."

After hanging up, Craig went to attend to Matthew who'd been playing on the living room floor. Myra had suggested he gave him some bread and yoghurt when he'd start feeling hungry and according to her time frame, that should be about now.

Perfectly timed, he thought, as Matthew suddenly started crying. He picked him up, asking, "Are you hungry, Matthew? Want Daddy Craig to give you some food?"

"Fooo, fooo," Matthew agreed.

Craig took him to the kitchen and put him in his high chair. He then prepared the food and started feeding his son. Half-way through his phone rang. It was John Paul. Craig picked it up quickly and told him he was busy feeding Matthew and asked whether they could talk afterwards. He then returned his full attention to his son who ate with gusto. Most of the bread managed to enter his mouth, but a lot of the yoghurt splattered all over the kitchen table and the floor around the high chair.

Later the toddler had finished his lunch, Craig cleaned up the mess and changed his son's nappy, and they pair of them were sitting on the sofa, reading a book. Realising that Matthew was dosing off, Craig carried him upstairs and quietly put him to bed. He then got his phone and rang John Paul.

"Hi Craig, everything okay with Matthew?" John Paul asked as he picked up the phone.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just fell asleep after his lunch. He had some appetite. He finished the yoghurt so you better get some on the way home." Craig suggested.

"Okay. Good to know. I spoke with Nancy. She's joining me. We're taking the train at six this evening. Are you really sure it's okay with you?" John Paul asked, the uncertainty clear in his voice.

"Of course! That's great news. You deserve a little holiday. When are you coming back?" Craig asked in return.

"We were thinking Monday. Then we'd have two whole days in London. Would you mind?"

Craig could hear the embarrassed hope in John Paul's voice and couldn't but laugh. "No, of course not, John Paul. I'd love to spend the weekend with Matthew. You just enjoy your time in London, and come back in great spirits to celebrate Christmas. I'll see you later today, okay?"

"Okay," John Paul felt sheepish. "And Craig … thanks."

"No worries. It's my pleasure." Craig replied, an octave more generous than he really felt.

"Okay, I'll see you over at our place at 5. We'll take the cab from there, okay?" John Paul was talking on the phone as he entered the Cash'n'Carry. "Good, see you then, Nance. Bye."

He froze as he noticed the young woman at the till, realising that he hadn't seen her in the shop ever since her brother raped him almost a year ago. He felt the surroundings closing in, his breath getting shallow, and all his senses got hyper-sensitive.

He closed his eyes and tried to use the technique his therapist had trained with him. 'Go to your safe place.' His mind took him to the flat he'd shared with Craig, the only place he knew that felt completely safe from harm. 'Just continue breathing normally. Allow the panic to hit you. It'll pass. Just allow it to happen. Remember you're safe here.' He felt the physical effects of the anxiety attack race through him; faded hearing, increased pulse and cold sweat. It didn't last long, though, and he felt his body and mind start to relax. He kept his eyes shut for a moment, still focused on his safe place.

"You okay, Mr McQueen?" John Paul was brought to the here-and-now by Sinead's hesitant question. He opened his eyes and looked at her, with a sad smile on his face. "Can I get you something? A glass of water?" She offered.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." He tried to say politely. After all, it wasn't her fault what had happened, he thought to himself. "Cindy not in today?" He asked hopeful that the owner was nearby.

"No, she's dealing with the insurance company." Sinead replied.

"Why? Something happen?" Curiosity pushed the uncertainty aside.

"Well, we had a break-in last night."

"What?" John Paul looked around the shop. Everything seemed the same as usual. "Did they steal from the till?"

"No. That's the weird thing. They left fifty pounds in the till, but ate all the yoghurt! I mean, nothing else! Just fifty pots of yoghurt! And left the empty pots scattered all over the floor."


	20. Chapter 20

**20 December 2014**

"Good thing you picked up _Boyz_ in the bar last night. It's incredible how much gay life this city has to offer. I want to go everywhere!" John Paul enthused as he leafed through the weekly magazine.

"Well, somebody had to think ahead. We wouldn't want to end up sitting here all night, just 'cause we didn't know what to do. I've already read through everything that's on tonight and I have two suggestions." Nancy offered.

"Okay, go ahead. What?" John Paul looked up from the paper.

"Well, as I am a girl, I'm not allowed to go to every club there's on tonight, but there were two things that struck my fancy, because they're apparently quite mixed. One is the G-A-Y Christmas party in a club called Heaven, that's near Charing Cross, and the other is Duckie at something called the RVT, here in Vauxhall." Nancy suggested.

"Okay, let me check." John Paul reopened the mag and started looking for the ads for those clubs, as he continued speaking. "I've heard of both. G-A-Y has been around forever and they always have some famous acts on, the X-Factor winner's probably on tonight. He was shite, though, wasn't he? Duckie's very good, I've heard, quite alternative, apparently, always some weird acts performing. And it's nearby. What do you think? Should we give it a go? Easy to get home if we get tired, no cab. And there are loads of other clubs around here we can go to afterwards if we want to." John Paul had made up his mind and closed the magazine, not bothering to read the ads he'd finally found.

"I'm up for it." Nancy agreed. Just give me a couple of hours to get gorgeous and I'll be ready." She winked at him.

"I better take a nap then." John Paul joked. "I wouldn't want to wait in a pub or I'd be dead drunk by the time you'd join me."

"Myra, would you mind if I took Matthew to my mum's for the evening? They're having a small Christmas party at home, just a few drinks, sausage rolls, scotch eggs, mince pies, things like that. You can join us, if you'd like." Craig asked his son's grandmother.

"No, of course I wouldn't mind, love. It's nice for Matthew to get to know your family a bit better. Not that your mother hasn't been nice to him. But I guess I shouldn't be tagging along, I wouldn't won't to gate-crash." Myra replied, her tone of voice clearly betraying that she definitely wanted to join the party.

Craig contained a chuckle and convinced her that she'd certainly not be gate-crashing as he'd invited her as his guest. Myra accepted the reiterated offer quickly and a few hours later she entered the flat above the Dog in the Pond together with her grandson and her once-to-be-son-in-law.

It was a great Christmas party, in Myra's opinion. The booze was flowing, plenty of food on the tables, chatter, song and dance. The only thing missing were the sausages in the sausage rolls! And that ridiculous Frankie Osbourne still claimed that she'd made the rolls herself, and there'd be plenty of sausages in the dough once she'd put them in the oven. Huh! Did she really think that Myra'd believe they weren't just some cheap ready-made crap. It didn't stop her eating them, though, and she had to admit that the holes in the rolls were a little suspicious.

After a great curry in an Indian restaurant, called The Coriander, not far away from the RVT, John Paul and Nancy decided to go for a drink in a pub on the opposite side of the road. John Paul was pleasantly surprised to find that The Royal Oak was a real old-fashioned Irish pub that served real Irish crisps. A classic game of hurling was even being shown on one of the TV screens. They sat down at a table near the middle of the pub and enjoyed the crowd that was a strange mix of straight local people of various ages and small groups of younger gay guys warming up for the night ahead. The little old woman tending the bar had refused a drink for herself, but stuck to her tea and smiled warmly at them as she brought John Paul the best pint of Guinness he'd had since leaving Dublin.

Half an hour later the pair of them finished their drinks and headed to the RVT where there was already a small queue outside. They paid the entrance fee and entered what turned out to be a small club with a stage and a good dance floor. The décor was in very dark colours but the multi-coloured lights created a flamboyant atmosphere in the room. The club filled quickly and it got very warm. Fortunately there was an outside area which they could go to for fresh air and lots of people just seemed to hang out there most of the night.

The music was very good. The two DJs which John Paul recognised as The Readers' Wives played an interesting combination of seventies and eighties pop hits and alternative rock classics which you could dance to and him and Nancy danced for most of the night, apart from the two times hostess Amy Lamé appeared on stage to introduce the performers of the night. The first one was a hula-hoop artist that did mind-blowing stunts and held the entire audience spellbound. The second one, however, was a weird Danish guy who performed a strange combination of a strip tease, impromptu body painting and early-eighties-style synthetic pop, and John Paul and Nancy found themselves joining the huge crowd that had gathered outside as the show went on.

"You guys new here?" A tall and rather bearish dark-haired guy joined them. "Hi, I'm Dean. I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah, we've never been. It's amazing, right?" John Paul replied. "I'm John Paul. And this is my friend Nancy."

"Hi." Nancy greeted the stranger shyly.

"Yeah, I love this place. I come here every Saturday. I still remember my first time, it was brilliant, and I just had to come back. Again and again. The shows are fantastic, most of them." Dean smiled and raised his drink towards them. "Cheers, nice to meet you guys!"

"And you. Cheers!" John Paul raised his drink in return, followed by a somewhat reluctant Nancy. Her friend ignored it and continued talking to their new friend.

When the show finished, people started going back inside.

"You feel like dancing?" Dean asked and John Paul and Nancy nodded and followed him to the dance floor.

When they'd finished their drinks, Nancy offered to go to the bar. Returning with the drinks she handed the two guys their cans of beer and whispered/called into John Paul's ear that she needed to go to the ladies'. He nodded at her and continued dancing.

After Nancy disappeared from his sight John Paul felt Dean getting closer and closer. He didn't mind. He liked the attention from this guy who was rather cute, he thought, and when Dean leaned in for a kiss he didn't move back but allowed his tongue to enter his mouth and joined in the snog.


	21. Chapter 21

**21 December 2014**

"John Paul, come back to the hotel. Please!" Nancy begged her friend. "You've had enough. We've both had enough."

"No, I'm going to Fire. I've never been to Fire and now I'm next door and it's a Saturday night and I'm going." John Paul refused, with a great wide smile on his face. "I'm in Vauxhall." He shouted. "I've heard about this place for years and now I'm going." He stamped down his feet. Then he looked as if he got a great idea. "You join us, Nance!"

Nancy closed her eyes and tried to remain calm. She'd never seen her friend in a similar state and it worried her. So much that she'd began to sober up a little earlier, which also meant that she was feeling more tired than she would have been if she'd remained a bit more drunk.

John Paul's new friend was standing there next to him, holding his left arm, pulling him almost unnoticeably towards him. Nancy got a sudden feeling, like an intuition, that she'd better tag along.

"Okay, John Paul." She gave in. "You win. But you're paying!" She added jokingly, because she didn't want this guy to suspect anything.

It was strange to lie alone in this bed. Craig didn't realise it but despite its narrow width he was only using half of, the same half where he'd tend to use years before. He could hear his son softly breathing in his bed but found it difficult to find the same calm and fall asleep. The smell was familiar, yet different; the view the same, yet there were new pictures and posters on the walls.

He turned his head and breathed in the smell of John Paul. Perhaps it will be easier to fall asleep if I imagine he's here, he thought to himself.

It didn't really help. The only thing that happened is that he felt more aware of his friend's absence. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be immersed by the thought of John Paul.

Strangely, it soothed him and he felt himself starting to smile. Suddenly, he was jolted awake. He didn't know why but found himself forced to check the drawer of the bedside table. He knew it was an invasion of John Paul's privacy, but he knew he'd not withstand it, once the idea had popped up.

The drawer was filled with various things. Craig didn't check them out. There was no need to.

On top of the lot was a framed photo. An eight-year old photo of John Paul. And himself.

And he knew.

John Paul hadn't left the dance floor for over an hour. Dean had disappeared somewhat earlier and Nancy had started to relax and really enjoy the music. The beat was really good and everyone around them seemed so friendly, smiling happily at her as they took their tops off.

Even John Paul had pulled off his T-shirt and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans like their comrades on the dance floor. Nancy's own shirt was still on, though, and it wasn't going off, thank you very much!

Suddenly, she started feeling dehydrated and knew she had to go to get something to drink. She tried to drag John Paul off the dance floor but he just laughed and told her to by herself; he'd stay there. When she finally gave in and made to leave, he pulled her towards him and asked her to by a bottle of still water for him. He then waved her away and she hurried to the bar.

A tall man was walking though the Hollyoaks village. He was of an uncertain age, looked rather grey, even surrounded by the multi-coloured Christmas lights, but those few that got close to him felt as if his eyes could see right through them. None had this night, though. His shoulders betrayed the fact that he'd had an uneventful night. Of all the places in the world, why did he choose this place this year? He wondered. Not one window he'd looked through had been open. All the curtains had been shut. He grunted as he approached the McQueen house.

Okay, I might as well try this one out, he decided. I'm here anyway. His jump over the picket fence was surprisingly agile and he crept to the nearest window. He'd checked all the windows on the ground floor when he seemed to grow even taller to peer through the upstairs windows. All were shut and curtained.

All but one.

And there he could see a young man asleep in a bed, a toddler in a smaller one nearby.

A smile formed on the window peeper's lips as he inspected the surroundings. Something shone from the bedside table next to the young man's bed. He put his right hand through the open window and extended it in the direction of what he'd realised was a framed photograph.

He was just about to pick it up when some strange music could suddenly be heard in the room.

Realising that the young man had woken up to this sound, he quickly withdrew his arm and hurried away from the house.

He therefore missed Craig's frantic cries as he jumped out of bed to wake up Myra.

Nancy was beside herself as she ran though the club. She hadn't realised there were five different rooms that stretched through the different arches under Vauxhall railway station.

John Paul was nowhere to be seen.

So she did the first thing that came to mind.

She rang Craig.


	22. Chapter 22

**22 December 2014**

Ever since he left John Paul, Craig had had a recurring dream where he was looking for his ex-boyfriend, only to find him just gone everywhere he went. It hadn't prepared him for the reality of the day before, he pondered as he sat on the Monday morning train back home.

He'd left Matthew in Myra's arms as he'd hurried to get the earliest train on the Sunday morning to London. He arrived just before one o'clock in the afternoon and met with Nancy at the station. She'd finally gone back to the hotel after searching for their friend for hours, but had hardly slept at all. John Paul's phone remained switched off and Nancy told Craig everything that had happened as they walked around the area, first retracing John Paul and Nancy's steps from the previous night and then just searching for any traces of him. It was when they were passing Barcode, one of the clubs on the other side of the station, that they noticed John Paul exiting from something called Chariots Spa. They called out his name, but he didn't respond so they both took to their feet and ran for him. Craig got there first. He reached out for John Paul's arm and pulled him around to face him. He was crying.

"Craig, just leave me. Go!" John Paul pushed his ex-boyfriend away and started running.

Shocked at the reaction, Craig remained still for a few seconds before following suit, down to the underground station. John Paul managed to get a ticket and jump on the escalator before Craig managed to pay his fair, and when Craig finally got down to the platform John Paul was nowhere to be seen.

The rest of the day had passed like a nightmare of waiting around. He'd jumped on the next train and gone the entire Victoria Line to Walthamstow and then back to Brixton, stopping at every station, in the small hope that John Paul would just be anywhere, waiting for Craig to find him.

He wasn't of course. In the end Craig gave up and left the tube back at Vauxhall. He rang Nancy, who'd decided to go to the nearest pub. They had a few drinks before heading back to the hotel where they sat around waiting for John Paul to return.

He hadn't.

He felt so ashamed. How did he not see what was going on? Of course Dean had seemed so nice. They'd danced and he'd felt attracted to him, he admitted that, but nothing really like he wanted to _do_ anything with him. Still, he'd found himself totally susceptible to everything Dean suggested. First that kiss. Then going to the club. Then leaving Nancy. Then entering _that_ place, that sleazy place. John Paul cringed at the thought. Why did he not realise what that metallic taste was?

Why did I not listen to Nancy? He thought in regret. Waking up in that cubicle was horrid and it had taken him a while to realise where he was and remember what he'd done the previous night. He felt all dirty as he went to the locker room and got dressed, deciding not to shower as he needed to leave as quickly as possible. The tears started welling up as he dropped the key at the exit and left the place.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Craig was there. He was certain it was him in the distance and he hurried in the other direction.

He'd managed to escape his ex-boyfriend on the train. He'd left at Euston, and luckily enough, there was a train home leaving in a few minutes.

Once back in Hollyoaks he couldn't go home to face his mum and the others. He was in no state to take care of his son. He was walking aimlessly around town when he noticed the building.

The door was open and he entered hesitantly. He looked around. It was empty. Slowly he walked further inside and decided to take a seat. He looked up at the big crucifix above the altar and felt the tears returning.

"Christmas gloom, ay?" Someone asked quietly.

John Paul turned slowly towards Father Daniel. He started to stand up but his legs somehow betrayed him and he slumped back on the pew. He then looked back at the priest and noticing the genuine kindness in his eyes, John Paul found himself surrender totally. "Father, hear my confession?" He pleaded, his voice breaking.

How weird is it, that it doesn't matter how long or boring a train ride is, it's always incredibly difficult to leave the train, Craig wondered as he gathered his few belongings. Heavily he stepped on to the platform and made his way into the station. Immerged in his thoughts he wasn't looking around so he was totally taken by surprise when a hesitant voice spoke his name, "Craig? … Craig?"

He'd walked past John Paul who was standing there. The relief was overwhelming as he embraced the younger man. "John … John Paul … I thought … I thought. you'd…" He didn't finish the sentence before the anger hit him.

He pushed John Paul away. "How… ? Why…?" He couldn't finish the questions as someone barged into him. He turned around and saw a big-nosed man who seemed too busy sniffing the air to watch where he was going.

"I'm sorry, Craig." John Paul spoke quietly. "We need to talk. I have to tell you things. Is that okay?"

Craig felt his anger subside and the relief return. "Yeah, of course. I'm just so … I'm glad you're alright. Does Nancy know?" He suddenly remembered their friend who'd stayed behind in London, in case John Paul returned to the hotel.

"Yeah, I rang her earlier." John Paul replied sheepishly. "I'm so sorry about yesterday. Can we go somewhere and I'll tell you everything. Mum's with Matthew. They're both alright." He offered before Craig asked.

A few minutes later they were sitting in a quiet corner in a nearby pub. John Paul took a drink from his pint before speaking.

"I'm sorry about leaving like that yesterday. I couldn't handle dealing with you after… after what I did. I felt so ashamed… disgusted." He paused for a second. "Craig, I think I was drugged. I'm not sure, but I think so. I mean, I'm not trying to find an excuse for my behaviour. I'm no saint, but going off with this guy… did Nancy tell you?" Seeing Craig nodding sadly, he continued. "Yeah, I know. I wasn't on the pull or anything. I mean, I haven't been with anyone since … since the rape. Haven't been close to, really. Then we met this guy and we just hit it off and he seemed nice and the next thing I know he's dragging me away from the club to that…" He swallowed. "To this gay sauna. He… we… did things that I never… I don't know what was happening, but I'd never… And then I wake up and he's gone and … Thank God, I still had my locker key with me, and nothing was gone… well, apart from my pride."

Craig had been watching him intently while he spoke. When John Paul had been silent for a while, his eyes fixated on his drink, he reached out with his right hand, and pushed his chin up. "John Paul, I believe you." He said sincerely. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Better… I'm feeling better… I spoke with someone yesterday that made me see things more clearly…" John Paul replied. He hesitated for a moment before taking the plunge. "Craig. I still love you."

"I know." Craig replied with a shy smile on his lips.

"How...? Never mind. What I was saying is this. I still love you, and I do want to try again." John Paul looked into Craig's eyes. "Do you still want me?"


	23. Chapter 23

**23 December 2014**

There was never any doubt in Craig's mind as to how he wanted to answer John Paul's question. Still, he wondered whether John Paul was in the right frame of mind to actually make this decision, so he'd hesitantly asked whether he really meant what he was saying. Seeing the eager and honest smile on John Paul's face as he nodded in affirmation, he put aside any misgivings and simply said "Yes."

And here he was now, waking up next to the man he'd loved for almost eight years on the day before Christmas Eve, their son still sound asleep in his own bed nearby. Craig quietly breathed in the smell of room. It was a mixture of musky male sweat, his and John Paul's perfumes, Matthew's dirty nappy, perhaps not the nicest odour in the world, but to him it felt like one thing – home.

He sensed John Paul stirring and moved to embrace him and gave him a kiss. "Morning, my love," he whispered.

John Paul kissed him back and snuggled towards his embrace, eyes closed but a wide smile on his lips. "I love the Holidays," he sighed. "I could so get used to this."

"Well, you don't have an option. You're mine from now on. End off." Craig joked.

"Deal!" John Paul imitated the catchphrase from the popular game show.

"Do you think you'll regret not knowing what's in those other sealed boxes?" Craig continued the joke, albeit in a serious tone.

"I might." John Paul replied truthfully. "But that offer just beats everything I could possibly dream of. Raising our son with you by my side, planning a future together. No unknown box could surpass that." He became more serious. "Any doubts, Craig? You totally on board? You wanna open any more of your own boxes?"

Craig searched his mind, not speaking for some time. He felt content. Nowhere could he locate a shred of a doubt. Any possible future different from one including John Paul and Matthew held no appeal to him. There really were no red boxes in sight. "No," he said calmly.

Myra was the first person out of bed in the McQueen household. It was still dark outside, but she sensed the dawn as she was pottering about in the kitchen. Knowing that the rest of the family would be up before long she made coffee and was preparing to make a full English when she realised why the fridge had seemed more empty than the previous night. All the meat was gone. The bacon, the big ham, even the turkey was gone.

Not again, she thought to herself. Was this Christmas going to be like that time when that toe rag had stolen all the booze and the presents? How can this keep happening to us? she wondered. Thank god, it's still two days to get another turkey. But what to do with breakfast? She put her disappointment aside and looked around the fridge. There was some cheese there, the mushrooms had been left, and there was a bag of hashbrowns in the freezer. Even a few frozen sausages. She quickly put them in the microwave to defreeze.

When the family members started coming down, one by one, there was plenty of food for everyone.

"I can't believe we couldn't find a turkey in any of the supermarkets." John Paul complained as he entered the Dog in the Pond along with Craig and little Matthew late in the afternoon.

"What's that?" Frankie asked from where she'd been clearing glasses off the tables near the entrance. "You don't have any turkey yet? That woman…" She shook her head in disbelief.

"It's not like that, mum." Craig explained. "Myra'd already bought a massive turkey for Christmas. I saw it with my own eyes in the fridge last night." He paused for a moment. "This morning, gone!" He made a magician-like gesture.

"What? Are you telling me that someone broke in and stole the turkey from the fridge?" An astonished Frankie asked.

"Well, we don't exactly know." John Paul replied. "The door was locked and only the window in our room was open. But nothing but meat was missing. It's all a big mystery. Mum even rang my dad but he's somewhere abroad so it couldn't be him… this time." He added the last two words in a lower voice.

"And all the supermarkets were out?" Frankie asked in a business-like tone.

"Yeah. We asked how come, but they couldn't really explain why they didn't have any. They're hoping to get some more before tomorrow, as there were loads of people asking for turkeys, but they weren't sure they'd get enough." Craig told her.

"Well, leave it with me. I'll sort something out. I'll contact our suppliers and arrange an extra turkey for us." Frankie said firmly. "John Paul, I just had an idea. Why don't all of you just come over here and we'll have a big family Christmas dinner here in the pub? I guess the pair of you won't be separated so that way Myra and I won't be disappointed that you'll be with the other one."

Surprised by the suggestion, John Paul didn't reply straight away. Craig did on his behalf. "Thanks, mum, I think it's a fantastic idea. John Paul, don't you agree?"

His boyfriend nodded his approval.

"That's settled. We'll talk with Myra. I'm sure she won't mind." Craig said with certainty and gave his mother a grateful smile.


	24. Chapter 24

**24 December 2014**

Christmas Eve had always seemed far longer than any other day of the year when he was a kid. The prolonged wait for it to be over so that Christmas Day with all its presents could finally begin. The stress of everyone doing the last minute preparations, cleaning, running around town buying the final gifts, the remaining food and drinks. Always feeling as if he was in the way of the grown-ups.

Now John Paul was one of those stressed-out grown-ups, and as he ran from one high street store to the next, he vowed never to make Matthew feel like he'd done as a child. There would be no last-minute shopping for presents, forgetting to buy the stuffing for the turkey or the Christmas crackers, nor would there be any cleaning on this day, as off next year. Everything would be done and Christmas Eve would be spent at home, watching telly, then when Matthew would be in bed, Craig and him would go out for a bit, just to experience the atmosphere, knowing that they'd be ready for the festivities to begin.

Today, this could not be the plan, however, as he'd not managed to do his shopping in London as planned, and all the rollercoaster ride of emotions of the last couple of days had made him forget that Christmas was just around the corner. Carmel had been kind enough to babysit for him and Craig, who'd also not finished his shopping, so they'd gone to Chester city centre together. Once there, they'd split up as they didn't want the other one to know what they were buying each other, but had made plans to meet for dinner at seven o'clock.

Amazingly both had finished their shopping earlier than expected and were already in the pub where they'd arranged to meet almost half an hour early. They had a drink and ordered their food.

"So, all done?" Craig asked as they took a seat in a quiet-ish corner.

"Yup. All in here!" John Paul replied and lifted his bags teasingly. "Wanna guess what's yours?"

"All of them?" Craig joked.

"No, it's for my sisters, mum, Matthew, Kathleen Angel, your mum, and a tiny little thing for you, perhaps." John Paul winked at his boyfriend.

"You got my mum something?" Craig asked in worried tone. "I didn't get anything for Myra."

"You don't have to. I just wanna say 'Thanks' to your mum for everything she's done for me and Matthew ever since…" John Paul tried to explain.

"Well, that's it. I need to do the same for your mum…" Craig cut him off, "and your sisters, and Theresa. They've been wonderful to Matthew, while I…" He couldn't finish, the guilt he felt evident on his face.

"Craig," John Paul whispered gently as he reached across the table to take Craig's hand, "stop it. You're here now. No need to go on blaming yourself. If you want to get them some presents that's fine, but you don't have to, just because I'm giving one to your mum."

Craig gave his boyfriend a grateful smile. "Nah, I'll get them some. I just didn't think off it earlier. I want to."

"Okay, so what's the plan after dinner? You need to go do some more shopping, then, I gather? I'm done so I'll just head home. You just join me when you're done. Unless you want to go sleep at your mum's?" John Paul asked.

"Well, I'll check some shops. I'll probably then take everything to my mum's, but I'd like to come around yours later?" Craig replied with a question of his own.

"Sure thing. Just come over whenever. I'll be up." John Paul replied.

"Okay, mum, I'm going over to John Paul's," Craig shouted at his mum who was busy making the last preparations for tomorrow's big meal. "See you tomorrow."

"Come here, love!" She ordered her son who obeyed without a complaint. "It's almost midnight! Merry Christmas!" She gave him a kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well!" She pushed him away towards the kitchen door and returned to her work.

Craig left the flat and walked through the pub, waving at Darren and Jack who were still busy serving drinks. Outside he started his walk over to the McQueen house. As he walked around the pond he got an idea and when he got to the next corner he made the wrong turn. He wondered whether it was a good idea, though, it might be too dark, but once he'd reached his unplanned destination, he found it to be well lit. Candles were burning on most graves and he could easily find his way to the one he'd wanted to visit.

There was no candle on Sarah Barnes' grave. Craig felt stupid, as he hadn't brought one himself. Stupid and sad. All of Sarah's family had now left town and none had managed to make the journey back to her grave for Christmas Eve.

"Are you alright, young man?" Someone asked him kindly. Craig turned around and saw an elderly gentleman standing a few metres away. He smiled at him and nodded.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just visiting a friend's grave." He said sheepishly.

"It's sad when they die so young." The man said as he approached the grave. "Girlfriend, ay?" He asked cheekily.

"Once. Yes. A few years before she died, though." Craig felt himself blush as he explained.

"Doesn't change the fact that you once loved her, does it?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"No, it doesn't." Craig replied.

"You don't have a candle, do you?" The old man asked.

"No, I didn't think of it. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to come here and I didn't…" Craig felt awkward.

"You can have one of mine." The man offered. "I always bring an extra one or two in case there's no light on one of the graves near my wife's. And my son's. They're over there." He pointed at freshly lit candles a few metres away. "I'd decided to put one here anyway." He handed Craig a candle. "Do you want to light it yourself? I can lend you my matches?"

Craig nodded and accepted the items. "Thank you. You're very kind."

"Merry Christmas, my son." The older man withdrew and went back to his wife and son's graves.

Craig turned towards Sarah's grave and lit a match. He then lit the candle and gently positioned it on the grave so that the flame shone its light on the name on the headstone.

"Merry Christmas, Sarah." He whispered as he touched the letters of her name. "Thank you for your guidance. Thank you for helping me see what I truly wanted. Thank you for forgiving me." He felt the tears trying to push through. "I hope I won't need your help with this again, but feel free to stick around and see me once in a while." He chuckled quietly. "But only if you want to," he added. "I want you to have peace."

Craig remained in silence at Sarah's grave for a few minutes. When he turned to give the old man back his matches, he was gone.

"Mum, I'm coming with you."

Myra was taken aback by her son who'd appeared at the top of the staircase, wearing his coat, but she didn't ask any questions, just allowed her son to take her arm as they walked in the direction of the church.

John Paul hadn't been to midnight mass on Christmas Eve since before puberty. Once he'd started realising that he was gay, he'd quickly turned his back on the Church, as he'd felt it only made him feel more shame. Something was changing, though, with the new Pope, he felt. The aftermath of the rape had made John Paul re-evaluate himself completely. He'd lost his identity, his self-confidence, his foundation, but as he started seeking guidance, one of the things he'd done was reconsider his spirituality, and what he'd heard and read from Pope Francis had made him feel hopeful that he'd manage to heal. And his recent talks with Father Daniel had made him more willing to believe in what he'd been taught as a child.

The church was packed, just like he remembered it being on Christmas Eve. The midnight mass at Christmas always felt different than other service, lighter and in a way more spiritual. Not just because many of the congregation were in fact under the influence of spirits, but because the sermons actually moved them. The story of the little baby, born into this world in the poorest of conditions, who'd grown up to become one of the most influential people in the history of mankind, through his preaching of charity and love, never ceased to amaze and inspire people.

John Paul couldn't help being reminded of the birth of his own son. How he'd initially decided he didn't want him, not owned up to being his father, tried to get rid of him. The true joy Matthew had brought to his life. How Matthew had been the most important source of his recovery after the rape.

John Paul suddenly became aware that his mother had risen to her feet. He looked around and saw that many were already making their way up the aisle. He didn't hesitate and followed his mother.

Father Daniel gave him a smile of genuine compassion as he offered him the body and blood of Christ, and John Paul felt loved and cherished as he accepted.


	25. Chapter 25

**25 December 2014**

The long black creature crept down from the icy mountains early on Christmas Day. It was feeling a bit peckish. Not that the stash from the previous Christmas Day hadn't lasted well into the winter, but unfortunately for the cat it had to travel long distances to find all the children needed for a year-long supply, the ones not cared for, the ones cast aside. The cat remembered well enough the glorious days of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries when the general poverty and the lack of care meant that many children did not get anything new for Christmas; a new pair of knitted mittens, a freshly made candle, an unused deck of cards, the simplest of things needed to ward off the terrifying Yule Cat.

The large feline had only devoured two children on its way through England when it crept into the Hollyoaks village. Still, it couldn't but love this time of year, the darkness that hid its journey from door to door, the smell of booze lingering in the air, alerting the whiskers that a parent or two might be about to forget their duties. Public houses were a firm favourite. No-one ever noticed a cat hiding in the shadows. People came and went and it was easy enough to follow them home to check whether there would be a delicious new victim there.

The cat found a spot outside the Dog in the Pond. Loud noises, talking, shouting, music, could be heard from inside the pub. Perhaps today? the cat thought as a large group of people arrived on the scene. It only noticed two of them, however, yawned, licked its lips, raised its arch and prepared to attack.

John Paul and Craig didn't notice anything unusual as they approached the pub, together with the entire McQueen clan. Craig was pushing Matthew's buggy, while John Paul carried most of their presents. Myra could hardly see above the boxes in her arms. Even little Kathleen Angel had a plastic bag in each hand as she tried to keep up with her mother.

They reached the building and disappeared inside where Craig guided them upstairs to the flat.

"Merry Christmas, everyone! Welcome!" Frankie shouted cheerfully as they appeared in the hallway. "Craig, take them to the living room. I'll bring you all some drinks in a minute. John Paul, love, can you help me with the drinks?"

Both boys did as she said. Tom was already in the living room, waiting patiently on his foster-mother's orders to take everyone's coats and arrange the new parcels under the Christmas tree.

John Paul took off his jacket and gave it to his boyfriend before joining Frankie in the kitchen. She grabbed his face between her hands, pulled him towards her and gave him a big kiss.

"Merry Christmas, love!" She patted his cheek. "Okay, the glasses are all here. Can you open a couple of bottles of bubbly and pour into the glasses. You should know how many there are of who are allowed to have any. It's only me, Jack, Darren and Craig on our side." She turned to the cooker. "The turkey's almost ready. It's been resting for an hour already. The sauce will be ready in a bit. Everything's under control!" She gave John Paul a thumbs up.

He felt a little awkward as he opened the bottles and started pouring into the glasses. Not since before he came out had he ever experienced such niceties from his former and now again mother-in-law-to-be. And he was certain it was genuine.

"Frankie…" he found himself muttering, not fully knowing what he wanted to say.

"Yes, dear?" she asked from where she was stirring the sauce.

"I… I appreciate your inviting all of us here today… and … also I want you to know that I don't … that I don't hold a grudge. I understand you were doing what you thought was best for Matthew, when you…" He couldn't finish.

"When I wanted to take him away from you," she shamefully completed the sentence without looking up. "I never should have done what I did. I don't know why I even thought that it would be better for him to be away from you. John Paul…" She turned to face him. "I've seen what a great parent you've been. Even with what happened. You still managed to put your son first, still managed to hold it together. We all make mistakes. But you've done so much better than I'd ever expected. John Paul, I'm so sorry. I should have apologised a long time ago. Are you sure you don't hate me?"

John Paul laughed. "Of course I don't hate you! You're Matthew's gran and Craig's mother. How could I ever hate someone who's given me the two people that I love the most in the entire world?" He hadn't expected the burst of tears from his boyfriend's mother. All flustered he placed the empty bottle on the table and went over to Frankie. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to…"

"It's alright, John Paul. I just hadn't seen things like that. I mean, I know you love my son, and I know you love Matthew, but for some reason I hadn't seen my involvement in that. The same as I didn't realise until now, when you said it like that, how much I love you. I mean, you've given me a grandson, and you've never tried to keep him away from me, rather the opposite, if anything. And now… now, you've given me my son back. Thank you!" She grabbed his left upper arm and stroked it kindly before taking a deep breath and composing herself. "Okay, that's that. You better take those glasses to the living room. They'll start wondering what we're up to. Thank God, it's you, or I don't know what Jack would think. Me alone with a gorgeous young man," she joked.

Not knowing how to respond, after the gossip he'd heard about Frankie and one of the Roscoe boys, John Paul smiled awkwardly back at her, put the glasses on a tray and left the kitchen.

The Christmas party was a great success. There was enough food for twice as many, even with Frankie surpassing her culinary skills by a landslide, so that everyone had a second and a third helping. The presents were variously received, but no one was happier than the children. All of them got some nice clothes, books and loads of toys to play with. Matthew was already asleep in his buggy when Craig and John Paul left the pub, the blond man carrying Kathleen Angel who couldn't stand on her feet anymore, while his boyfriend pushed the buggy.

The music coming from the pub drowned out the angry hiss the Yule Cat made as it disappointedly turned away to continue its search for desolated children. Fortunately for the cat, there were still too many around the world. It wouldn't starve to death in 2015.

"Peace and quiet. Lovely!." John Paul sighed as he sat down on the sofa next to Craig, opening a can of beer. He handed his boyfriend one.

"Come here!" Craig put his right arm across John Paul's shoulders and pulled him towards him. "We'll share yours first. I don't know if I can drink a whole one. You up for a bit of drama. EastEnders on demand okay? I wonder what's happened to the Brannings this Christmas!" He pointed the remote at the telly.

"Yeah. Why don't they bring Stacey back? I always loved her. But Kat and Alfie are always good fun, though. Bring it on!" John Paul giggled and leaned back into his boyfriend's embrace as the familiar theme tune began. "Thank God our lives are not as dramatic as this, ay?"

"You can say that again!" Craig whispered back as he extended his head and gave the love of his life a kiss on the forehead.

***  
THE END

P.S.

All the strange things happening are connected to creatures from Icelandic folklore.

There are 13 "jólasveinar" – Yule Lads – who come down from the mountains, one by one, from 12 December until Christmas Eve. In the past they'd come to steal things, mostly food, but in modern times they bring children small presents. Each night, every child in Iceland puts a shoe in the window and in the morning there's something there, something nice if the child has been well-behaved the previous day, but a raw potato if they've been naughty.

I decided to experiment with adding their old-selves to the story (apart from the last one, the "Candle-Stealer" who took on the needed shape of the old man in the graveyard. I hope it was fun to read, although, unfamiliar to most – if not all – readers here!

Further information on the Yule Lads can be found here, wiki/Yule_Lads

I also decided to introduce the Yule Cat to the story. It's a horrifying creature that's scared Icelandic children for centuries. It's, however, not only used to scare children into behaving well, but also a vivid reminder to parents to take good care of their little ones, as it will be the parents who'll have to deal with the loss of the children to starvation and neglect.

Yule Cat is described here .is/english/for-visitors/christmas/other-christmas-characters/, wiki/Yule_Cat and .

and Björk sang about it, here watch?v=BeHunHocp5Q


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